


Coping Mechanisms for Idiots

by kingburu



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, pfff, wally isn't dead in the story, wally's powers are killing him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 104,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Invasion, Dick and Wally decide to resolve their UST. Also, sad things. ///</p><p>After the Invasion, all Wally wants to do is get his life back on track. Artemis, however, wants to go back to fighting crime. No matter how much he begs and pleads for her to stay, she needs to do what makes her happy. And, Dick. Well, as the guy who convinced her to be a hero again, he's gotta make sure Wally's happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break Up, Queso Fights, IHOP, Friends

The last of Artemis’s things had been packed up in several boxes that horded the living room, all precisely stacked and labeled in red Sharpie. Brucely, the dumb dog he was, nosed them into an amicable fort while his owners made sure everything was separated.  They hadn’t divided things in a literal sense (half the couch, half the pillows sitting on the bed—far be it, half the dog), but agreed that any minor thing that Artemis had forgotten, she would come by for later.

 

The apartment she would be renting with Zatanna didn’t allow pets, which meant their dog would be staying where it was until Wally could find a new place. His scholarship money wasn’t going to cover everything. If worse came to worse, he would go back to living in a dorm room or make the zeta trips back and forth from Central City. (The latter thought simply made him grimace—zeta-beaming could be a nightmare.)

 

At the moment, all Wally could do was watch as Megan stacked the last stack of boxes and Artemis make sure everything was there. She’d taken down frames and photos that Wally did not mind leaving the house and tucked them in photo albums for safe keeping.

 

He kept a safe distance from the bedroom door, dressed only in pajama pants and a crumpled night shirt that didn’t seem to matter, and watched her spare glances at other photos. _One from when we got Brucely as a puppy. When we first got the house. Central City High Prom picture._ Artemis stopped, scrutinizing the picture gingerly on the kitchen counter. She picked it up, lacing fingers around the edges, and made eye contact with him.

 

Wally took it as his cue to push off the doorframe and met his girlfr— _ex_ -girlfriend at the other end of the room as her lips contorted into a solemn frown. “You could always stay,” he murmured quietly once he met her.

 

They were happy in the picture. Artemis had punched him in the nose after he placed the corsage on her wrist. She’d curled her hair for the occasion, and the first thought that came to mind, for some godforsaken reason, was the fact she looked like Miss Piggy. Thusly, Wally went to his Senior Prom with a bloody nose and a guilty conscience, and an amused Artemis as his gorgeous prom date. The quirk of her lip let him know she was thinking the same exact thing.

 

“You know I can’t do that,” she said finally, then set the picture frame in his hand. The blonde took a sharp breath and looked her ex somberly in the eye. “You want to live this life. I…don’t. Don’t think I ever did.”

 

Wally bit his lip and looked down to the picture frame fondly. Tan fingers wrapped around his own, curling his hands until they were tight.

 

“Keep it.” Then, a kiss on the cheek. “Just because we’re broken up now doesn’t mean it wasn’t good while it lasted.”

 

“Yeah.” Wally let out the breath he was holding, feeling the air escape from his lips.

 

 _“Ekat eht sexob ot ym tnemtrapa.”_   The boxes strewn around the room glowed, illuminating in a soft blue light before disappearing and leaving both the house and Wally empty. Zatanna smiled hesitantly and looked to the ex couple. “Everything should be over there. We can unpack later.”

 

Artemis nodded, muttering a quiet thank you under her breath. She stepped backward from the redhead, and out of instinct, Wally grabbed her by the arm. Brown eyes looked to green, suddenly flickering with a disapproving glint, and forced him to let go.

 

 _I still love you_ , Wally didn’t say. Instead, he looked to Artemis warily, and the sadness was returned.

 

“Bye,” she said. He waited an extra beat, in hope there was more to the sentiment, and got nothing back.

 

M’gann and Zatanna were both locked in conversation, awkwardly trying to keep from hearing in on the converstion. From the distance he stood, Wally could see them eyeballing the situation in concern. When Artemis finally met them in the middle, they let go of heavy breaths.

 

“Bye, Wally,” M’gann said softly. He shrugged back jerkily, unsure of what to say.

 

“See you later. Okay?” Zatanna spared him a look and was met with silence. What else was there to put in the air when the situation was clearly, _hey-stealing-your-girlfriend-since-she-wants-to-be-in-a-mask-again-permanently, see-you-at-the-next-bloc-party_? She took in a deep breath, chest rising, and waved a hand. “ _Ekat su kcab ot ym tnemtrapa.”_

The next flash of light forced Wally to shut his eyes and look away. Beneath closed eyelids, he could still see the bright specks and hear the hum of absolute power until suddenly— _nothing._ Zilch. Brucely stood to his paws and barked loudly at the empty space.

 

And when Wally looked up, he was alone. Save for one dog.

 

“Bye.”

 

**xxx**

At first, Wally thought it would be a good idea to take note of all the annoying things he wouldn’t have to deal with now that Artemis no longer lived with him. She used to trim her toe nails while they were watching Doctor Who and get them all over the floor. There was this one time she decided they would be having _pho_ for dinner and then Brucely tipped the pot over. It would always be _her_ blond hair that clogged the shower.  

 

(Then he realized—no, as disgusting as it was to find blond hairs everywhere, it was also very nice to comb his fingers through it like warm pudding. Then, that it was the stupid dog’s fault their dinner had been disrupted. Then—well, no. The toe nails thing was still disgusting, but DVR saved him when Arty had to study or sleep.)

 

As he searched his mind for reasons why being in a relationship with Artemis made wasn’t worth it, the guilt gnawed at his chest and made him feel worse. Artemis and he had been in a relationship for five _years—_ she wasn’t just some girl he met a day or a week or a month ago. They were practically married. Practically.

 

The engagement ring and box were still tucked beneath his mattress, waiting for Christmas Day when Paula Crock and Artemis would attend one of the Flash Family Christmases to be held at the West Residence this year, where Artemis would find it at the bottom of a large red and green bag.

 

Or—well. Was going to.

 

After that, he pulled out a text book, set it on the coffee table, and flipped to a random page before turning on the TV and letting _News At 3_ play as background noise. If he went back to the task on hand, then Wally could pretend it was just an ordinary day. He just…didn’t want it to be over. Didn’t want to wait for the clock to turn nine and not hear the door open as his not-girlfriend didn’t go through.

 

He had the day off from his internship, so there was no point in arriving and asking if he could kill time.

 

Wally wasn’t even in the mood to eat. Which— _wow._ That was a new low, even for him.

 

Five years. They’d dated on and off, starting exactly on January 1st, all those years ago—a month when both admitted they wanted to be exclusive. Artemis and he had shared a lot of firsts together, including the _big awkward_ first, then settled down. Wally had needed to leave the team for quite some time right before college. It had taken a lot of arguing, and much begging on his part to get Artemis to follow his lead, and for three following years, they had been taken off the roster.

 

Then Dick— _Nightwing_ called. Really—Maybe, Wally shouldn’t have blamed him as the source of all his problems. After all, Nightwing barely got all the words out before Artemis wholeheartedly agreed for the deep undercover mission. When the phone cut off, she’d looked to him as though she’d done something unforgivable. Trapped. In a small apartment in Palo Alto, with a dog that wasn’t completely housebroken and having nothing to look forward to than going to school.

 

After seeing that look, he didn’t have the heart to tell her no. He was frustrated at his _best friend_ for ever suggesting putting the love of his life in danger, but maybe even angrier that he reignited the blonde’s interest to return—bow, arrow, and all.

 

The last thing Wally ever wanted to do was have Artemis feel like a caged bird in their home. The other last thing he ever wanted was for her to return without him. So, even after childish fights and begging that she didn’t return—not after the whole Tigress thing—Artemis was right. She wanted right, he wanted left.

 

It was better to stop hurting each other now, than let it ache for the rest of eternity.

 

So despite trying to come up with all the negative things he associated with Artemis, pretending their breakup didn’t happen, and nagging himself on the inside that if he’d just shown the ring to her _sooner_ —he knew they were better off without each other.

 

Too bad life was still a bitch and decided to make it hurt.

 

Wally sat at the couch, with Brucely curled against his leg and slobbering on his knee. He pretended to listen to the news about a goldfish saving a cat from the tree, and thought of ways he could move on with his life. Come April, he would graduate college and start a job with STAR Labs. There were girls (and some guys) in his class interested in dating him. Starting tomorrow, he could force himself to take the plunge and ask one of them out. If they were still single. Hell—plenty of the girls (and again, some guys) were already married and pregnant in class.

 

The once-Fastest Teen Alive was just too slow to make his move.

 

 _Don’t think that way, West._ He stopped himself, bowing his head back to the couch behind him before changing the channel. ABC Family flickered on, playing a scene from _Pretty Woman._ Stepping toward marriage would have just made both of them feel worse. And he already did, trying to forget about her.

 

Thankfully, the door rang before he thought again. (Yeah. Thinking. What a pain.)

 

Dick stood at the other end, a hardy smile across his lips and arms tucked firmly behind his back like a gentleman greeting a girl.

 

 _Well now, don’t sell yourself short, West._ He was at least a lady. Green eyes narrowed to the teen standing outside the door, hand firm on the knob and teeth biting the inside of his mouth. Somehow, seeing the guy that provoked his girlfriend to break up with him didn’t make him any better.

 

He saw the teen’s gaze dim slightly, lips wilting along with it. Dick’s hand ran through ebony hair and his stature stiffened. “You…gonna say something?”

 

Wally shrugged. He opened the door wider, mostly by obligation, and made room for the hero to enter. Dick’s eyes followed the movement, the reluctance still showed on his face. Sigh. “Relax. I don’t have the energy to yell at you right now.”

 

The words must have sounded wrong aloud. Somehow it only made his best friend look like a kicked puppy—which, at the moment, only left a nasty taste in Wally’s mouth. Dick slowly came in, which was when Wally noticed the duffel bag hung over the teen’s shoulder.

 

Um. “You…staying over or something?”

 

“No,” was the short reply from Dick. He set the bag next to the couch and bent over to pat Brucely over the head.

 

“You should have called before you came.” Wally shut the door behind him, sporting a stern look to the teen’s shoulder blades.

 

“But if I did that,” Dick replied slowly, and he looked over his shoulder, a glint in his eye, “you would have said ‘no.’”

 

“You used to just come over anyway.”

 

“I stopped when both Artemis and you rightfully accused me of cockblocking. Or—well. Dickblocking.” A soft, crooning laughter tingled at the back of Dick’s throat, goading Wally from frustration to tiny laughter. It was warm, spreading in the redhead’s chest like a nice breath.

 

This was the first civil conversation they’d had with each other in ages. Nothing in regard to missions, about putting Arty and he back on the roster, or even the elephant in the room where Dick forced himself not to talk about it and Wally pretended it wasn’t an issue.

 

 _Ah, jeez._ Wally heaved a sigh, letting out an infuriating breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and slowly worked his way over to his old friend. The nervousness was evident in the teen’s face, but he’d elected to ignore it when they greeted each other. Someone who called _Dick Grayson_ stupid either didn’t know him well enough, or knew him too well.

 

“Sorry,” the redhead said finally. His demeanor broke, and he fell to his seat on the sofa. Looking up to Dick evenly, he was met with a curious eyebrow. “You’re welcomed here. I don’t blame you. Not…entirely, anyway.” He patted the couch cushion next to him lamely.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Dick sat down.

 

“My girlfriend of five years realized she never wanted to leave the hero life behind and left because I did.” Green eyes looked to the ceiling forlornly, head tilting back. “I begged her to stay and knew I was losing the argument as I went along. I…never should have asked her to stay. Not if she wanted to. It’s…” Wally took a breath. “It’s different from just trying to get her back. I get her back, then she has to give up the heroing.”

 

“You…could always—”

 

“Dude.” Wally shook his head, the guilt on his face morphing into a frown. “Don’t go there. Seriously.”

 

Dick wasn’t a little kid anymore. That particular thought crossed Wally’s mind when suddenly the teen next to him crossed his arms, and along with it came flexed muscles. Legs extended to the fullest length, crossing at the ankles and disappearing under the coffee table. Then, Dick looked at him warily. Of course he did. This was the guy that rarely ever let Wally get away with anything whenever they were kids. “There are plenty of heroes who keep a relationship with a civilian, Wally.”

 

“ _Hah._ Please. I don’t _want_ her back in the hero world. Especially not after all the shit you put us through.” Wally’s jaw tightened and he tossed a glare in the teen’s direction. Yet when he did so, he saw he was met with the same demeanor.

 

“I didn’t come here to pick a fight with you.”

 

“You mention the uniform, that means you should expect a fight.”

 

 _“Wally._ ”

 

Right. The redhead snapped to attention, realizing that both his stature and face and twisted unfavorably in the light of his supposed best friend. He shut his eyes, pressed a hand to his face and let out a breath. So much for _not being mad._

 

“Sorry.” And then he slid off the couch, landed on the floor with a huge _bang_ and causing the table to scrape away against the floor.

 

Silence. At this point, Wally wasn’t quite sure which one he would have favored more. So,

 

“Sorry,” he said again and he raised his head to Dick’s stoic look. _Man. When was the last time they smiled at each other_?

 

He made room when Dick also slid to the ground, thighs touching in the small crevasse between the table and the couch. Dick leaned over, carefully placing a palm against the redhead’s knee, and forced Wally to look back at him.

 

“I know you’re mad at me,” the teen muttered. “And I know that you’re going to _be_ mad at me. For a long time, until you can get over Artemis. But. I’m still your best friend and I’m going to keep tabs on you. Even if you’re not in the suit anymore.”

 

The redhead looked to him carefully, unconvinced.  Another apology was at the tip of his tongue, really.

 

Dick dragged his forgotten duffel bag next to his lap and pulled out four family packs of Tostitos tortilla chips, eight jars of queso, and three video games that Wally recognized very clearly. Dick offered him a wry look, a smirk curled at his lips, and tossed a bag onto the redhead’s lap. “I brought bribery.”

 

Wally blinked. “Seriously?”

 

“Bros are supposed to help bros after a bad breakup.” There was a break in the usual sternness in Dick’s face, a wary smile accumulating across his lips. “We’re still bros. Right?”

 

Yeah. He’d mentioned earlier that his separation from Artemis was not entirely Dick’s fault. Plus, they’d gone far too long without seeing each other. Dick’s decisions managed to drive Wally up a wall on occasion but—truth be told, having someone around made him feel less alone. Especially for tonight.

 

“Yeah.” Wally tore open the bag of chips and smiled. He could just barely hear a sigh of relief from Dick’s end. “We’re bros.”

 

They played games for six straight hours—or at least, Wally had watched Dick twitch and fidget like a little kid as he went through Skyrim. As the evening progressed, everything prior to Dick visiting seemed to disappear. They fell into an old pattern the redhead couldn’t remember quite well—(“Dude—shoot it, shoot it!” “No _shit_ , you idiot, I’m shooting it!”)—to the point Wally wrestled for the controller. (Of course—Dick and is freaky bat training got the better end of him, and the said redhead was pinned to the ground, looking up to a smug face.)

 

Following that was a tortilla chip and queso fight, which left the wooden floors splattered in Monteray Jack Queso and a bag of chips were shoved down the front of Dick’s shirt.

 

They decided to leave the mess for Brucely to clean up (to which the dumb dog looked very happy about, given the squeaky sounds he made) and go to the IHOP not too far from Wally’s apartment. Well—after changing, at least. As it turned out, a spare change of clothes was probably the only thing Dick hadn’t packed in his neat duffel bag. Once Wally asked if he needed clothes, the teen’s response was, “Unless you want Nightwing walking around the streets of Palo Alto for no real reason.”

 

Wally lent him a spare change—which, as it turned out, was a perfect fit on his best friend. Sometimes it was hard to place the big-eared kid and the tall, somewhat-adult in the same category. He tried not to look at Dick’s face when he took the teen downstairs to the garage, where his decent-looking Honda was nested amongst things. The stray cat that Artemis had taken under her wing _meow_ ed and slunk away into the night.

 

“Get in,” he instructed, just _knowing_ Dick was surprised.

 

“Sorry,” the teen said, as if reading his thoughts. “I uh. I just always thought this was _Artemis’s_ car.”

 

Wally shrugged. “I asked for it as a graduation present.”

 

“Do you run at all? In the morning? Jogs?”

 

“Depends.” Not really.

 

He flashed the teen a look, hoping it didn’t come off too angry or annoyed. Just— _please_ , he wanted Dick to drop the subject. Fortunately realizing Wally’s lack of enthusiasm, Dick obediently stopped. The drive to IHOP was quiet until Wally felt uncomfortable enough to turn the radio onto whatever Artemis had left it the last time they went out together.

 

Going to the restaurant, the hostess, Sam, greeted Wally with a pleasant smile, and then Dick with an even sweeter one before escorting them to their seats.

 

“I take it you come here often?” His best friend mused.

 

“Open all night with pancakes. What do you think?” Wally snorted, eyes narrowing pleasantly. “So, uh. How’s the team doing?”

 

“Pretty well. It’ll be Artemis’s first mission soon. Being back on the team and stuff, I mean.” Dick’s face contorted hesitantly. He leaned over the table, tensely clasping his hands on arms and face twisting uncomfortably. “And, uh. Bart’s good, too.”

 

“Good. Robin…doing well?” Wally’s hand wrapped around his drink. He pressed cup to his lips, watching the teen’s expression morph tentatively until a smile spread across his lips.

 

“Yeah. He’s good.”

 

Good. “I’m glad. You were pretty nervous about him, right?”

 

“Just that I’d end up doing something stupid,” Dick agreed. He bit the inside of his mouth, stirring the straw in his Coke speculatively. It was hard to miss the proud gleam as it glowed in the guy’s eyes. “It was a learning experience for me. For all of us. Tim’s good now, though.”

 

“Good,” Wally echoed in agreement. He withdrew the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, hand still tight over his drink. A smile of his own pressed against his lips, mimicking Dick’s sentiment. “You know, despite all the crap I’ve given you this past year, you… _are_ a good big brother.”

 

Dick blinked, staring at the redhead as though he’d grown a third eyeball.

 

“Hard to believe.” Said redhead shrugged. “Given what a little _shit_ you were when we were kids.”

 

“I was cute, wasn’t I?”

 

“Heh…heh. Only partially.”

 

They both laughed, soft and crinkly beneath their breaths. When Wally looked up again, Dick looked less like a fish out of water and more like the best friend Wally’d had since he was thirteen. The smile was boyish across his lips, gaze firm an warmer than it had been.

 

Or, well. _Just as warm._ Wally had just been more preoccupied perusing the situation cautiously than it needed to be.

 

“Thanks,” said the teen in front of him.

 

“Yeah—well.” Wally ran his free hand through his hair. “You’re paying for this meal then. For all the times you one-upped me.”

 

“ _Hahaha._ I’m okay with that.”

 

Fortunately that seemed to be enough of an ice breaker that they were able to carry on with the conversation ( _again._ ) Wally hoped that eventually they would permanently slink back into their old personalities, where he could rag on his best friend of eight years and Dick could do the same, packing twice the punch. They discussed the team—Mal and Karen would be getting married next February. Conner and M’gann were starting up their relationship again. Dick’s biggest concern was re-integrating both Kaldur and Artemis back on the team after so many months of deception.

 

“They’ll manage,” Wally assured him. The breakup between Artemis and he was messy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have the utmost respect for her. Kaldur, too.

 

After that, the subject was dropped. A wrinkle had appeared between Dick’s brow, frustrated and clearly troubled. Younger members of the team were at the age where rebellion was a given, if what happened with Arsenal (information Wally only getting right now) was any consolation. For the most part, they were apparently obedient. Now that the six leaguers were back, the covert team was working at the Watchtower until their own permanent base could be established. They were, Dick explained, trying to keep it separated, and let the team operate on the original members’ shoulders.

 

Well—other than Wally himself. He decided not to mention that part.

 

Aside from that, they discussed social lives. Wally and Artemis both would be graduating from Stanford in the springtime. He’d taken an internship with STAR Labs at the start of the semester, and if all went well, he would also be working for them once he graduated in the Keystone City division. When he finished his update, he pretended not to notice the look Dick gave him and urged the teen to carry on.

 

The guy had taken a year off college to focus on the team. He’d been in that mindset for years now, since Kaldur had stepped down permanently as leader, but his dedication often at times surprised Wally. That wasn’t his idea of what “social life” meant.

 

 He wasn’t stupid—since coming into the IHOP, girls had been eying their table—mostly Dick than Wally himself. (Anyone who knew him or Artemis basically thought they were connected by the hip.) Dick was handsome. He’d always been _cute_ —Wally had called it a long time ago back when they first met. But now, most of the boyishness had disappeared from the acrobat’s face in favor of a more structured jaw line. _Dick finally grew into his ears_ , Wally couldn’t help but muse as he watched the guy eat his scrambled eggs.

 

Dick was fit and more athletic than most guys his age, with a build most people would die for. His fingers were long—callused, from years of handling batarangs. He let his hair grow out (though, Wally inputted that to Dick focusing more on his work than cleaning himself up) so that it rested on his neck. It wouldn’t be too long before he could draw it back into some charming ponytail. All of that stacked together, along with that stupid effervescent flicker in cerulean blue eyes made him a knockout.

 

Wally made the occasional comment of how much of a _dog_ his best friend was. Which—seriously, was definitely not a lie. Yet here, right now, Dick seemed more content enthralled in conversation with Wally himself than returning looks the girls in the next booth over were giving him.

 

“You okay?”

 

“What? Uh—yeah.” Wally was met with an ebony eyebrow peaked high in the air. Out of reflex, he sat back in his seat, free hand curling at his neck. “Why?”

 

“You…haven’t let go of your drink since the waitress gave it to you,” Dick pointed out. He moved to pour maple syrup on his pancakes, then looked up with amusement. “And you’ve been staring at me funny ever since she slipped me her number on the napkins I didn’t ask for.”

 

Right. “What do you expect? You’ve got the attention of every girl in the room and you decide to pay attention to little ol’ me.” Wally placed his free hand on his chest, a smile curling at one side of his face, and wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m flattered. I may even let you get in bed with me tonight.”

 

“Right,” Dick replied wryly. “I told you. I’m not looking for anyone.” He pushed the napkins to the side as if to prove his point—then shoved it in his pocket as though to be nice. “Last girl I dated was Babs. That didn’t last long.”

 

“How come?” Actually, it had to be brief enough if this was the first time Wally heard about it.

 

Shrug. “There was a lot of chasing. And. It was nice. We wanted different things.” He looked up to the redhead thoughtfully, head tilted slightly as he went into his own ministrations. Then, “Trust me. It was better that way.”

 

Suddenly there was a way that Dick looked at him that unnerved Wally. He blinked back, taking in the information, the nodded slowly. Raising his glass, Wally forced Dick to do the same. “To single life. _Life’s a bitch._ ”

 

A grin cracked upon Dick’s lips. The teen laughed softly beneath his breath (a sound that Wally didn’t realize he missed so much) and mimicked the gesture. “To single life.”

 

After that, they pigged out on more pancakes. If it weren’t for the fact Dick was so used to Wally’s eating habits (and had a billionaire playboy father as his personal bank), the redhead probably would have eaten less. Dick discussed a movie he’d seen with the new Robin and raved on how charming _Timmy_ was, happily geeking out at both inappropriate and appropriate times. Apparently every one of their stakeouts was accompanied by donuts, Arbys’ or some other of fast food. Wally raved that because of Bart, he had to increase his grocery shopping by the tenfold.

 

Then eventually, Dick had to leave. He _tsk_ ed, checking his phone idly about an hour later. “Bats wants me back in Gotham to help him out on a case. He won’t be happy if I’m late.”

 

“You want me to drive you?” Okay. That sounded even lamer aloud than it did in his head. And that was saying something.

 

Dick shook his head. “The zeta tube’s only about a block away. Might as well work off all that food before I get there.”

 

“Hey—not my fault you were trying to get into an eating contest with _me_ of all people.” Smirking, Wally raised his head victoriously. “Um—” He reached out the moment Dick stood up from the table, snickering, and placed a hand on the teen’s forearm. All of that happened before Wally could even realize what he was doing.

 

Blue eyes stared back—less bewildered than earlier, more confused.

 

 _Shit._ Wally hadn’t even known what he planned to say. He swallowed hard, fingers padding the guy’s arm carefully. His tone dropped, and suddenly looking Dick in the eye was hard. “Thank you. For coming, I mean. This was nice.”

 

Blink. Dick’s mouth opened slightly, the surprise clearly there. Then, he nodded, a warm smile falling at his lips. “Yeah.” He moved to leave—and Wally’s grip only tightened. “Yeah, dude?”

 

“Come back later. If you’re up for it.” Wally swallowed again, eyebrow quirked and the corner of his lip raising. “I’ll leave my window unlocked just in case I fall asleep.”

 

“ _Hahaha._ Really.”

 

 _I don’t want to be alone,_ he didn’t say. “Yeah. Really.”

 

Dick took one look at him and seemed to guess the problem immediately. Wally’s heart fluttered as his best friend smiled back, eyebrows pinched together and eyes seeming to gain a glitter or two. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Cool.” Yeah. _Cool._

 

Once Dick left, Wally was by himself again. Dick slipped out of his grip with surprising ease, given it was the redhead’s bad hand. He stared at it carefully—the hand that had been wrapped around his drink dutifully throughout the night. Unless Dick had pointed it out, Wally doubted he would have noticed. Getting it to unfurl from a fist was a task that could have taken hours.

 

. He could hardly feel it. Not in months.

 

Sighing, Wally used his good hand to uncoil the fist, then rummaged for his keys. He drove home in painful silence, obeyed every stoplight, and parked in his garage without any trouble. All completely, absolutely normal.

 

**xxx**

_“I’m telling you, dude. It’ll work this time!”_

_“I’m surprised you have enough blood left running through you to even talk.”_

_“Hahaha. Very funny. Just. Stand there, and prepare to be amazed. I make it through that wall and you owe me a year’s supply of hotdogs.” Kid Flash broke into a grin, crouched at the ground with his fingers pressed across the gravel.  Twelve yards away, tiny Robin stood tall, his arms crossed and this little smirk on his face that read—‘You are such an idiot.’_

_Oh, cool. He finally got the dude to smile. Robin had to be the toughest cookie Wally’s had to deal with._

_Beneath his cowl and the goggles, Kid Flash wiggled his eyebrows enthusiastically, hoping that would translate into, ‘Wish Me Luck.’ He pulled out the tissues that had been crammed into his bloody nose only an hour ago, inhaled the scent of caked red crumbs and grimy oxygen into his nostrils, and curled his hands into the gravel._

_Energy knotted in his stomach. Kid Flash sucked in air until his lungs tightened, and felt the bristle of static as it grazed the lycra and padding above his suit. He viewed Robin through red lenses—that tiny stature, even tinier smirk, and bit the inside of his mouth. Okay, okay, okay._

_Kid Flash broke into a sprint, accelerating as he did so. His pulse tightened, the wind billowing at the wing-tips of his ears, and feet hit the ground for traction. He was going to do it. He was going to do it. Hewasgoingtodoithewasgoingtodoi—_

**_ BAAAAAM  _ **

**__ **

_…when Wally woke up, his back was to the floor with—owowow—a rock digging into his back. He reached beneath him and grabbed a giant chunk of asphalt that was definitely too big to be a bother in his shoe and threw it aside. Flash’s face stared down at him, lips stretched crookedly and eyebrows pinched beneath the cowl. He looked like a giant, fussy speedster…golden retriever with a Flash mask._

_“Hi Uncle Flash,” he said, voice wobbly. His face twitched then—ow. “Ow, ow, **ow.** ” Wally reached to touch his nose—and was promptly stopped by his mentor. _

_“Don’t touch it. I think you broke your nose.”_

_“What makes you say that?” OwowowowowowowOWOWowOw._

_“Because the last time I checked, it didn’t have a bigger arch than the one in St. Louis.” Flash sighed in exasperation, and suddenly the boy was ready to bury himself in a hole. Or find a bigger rock to hit himself over the head with._

_“Sorry,” Wally mumbled, then cringed. Kid Flash only for a few months and he was already screwing up._

_Flash scratched his head thoughtfully, the frown still obvious across his lips. It softened just slightly; enough to let Wally know he wasn’t in deep trouble. “We’ll have to tell your aunt about this, Kid.”_

_“I figured.” Wally reached out for his uncle’s extended hand to get up—_

_Only to be forced back onto the ground. “Dude!”_

_“Oof!”_

_Robin grinned at him from above, having the speedster pinned easily to the ground. The Boy Wonder mounted his friend, eyes wide beneath his mask and arms crossed dutifully. “That was sick. You made a mini-tornado out of the alleyway and slammed into the wall!”_

_Wait. “Seriously? You thought that was cool?” Man, it was a good thing Robin was so tiny—otherwise the dude would be crushing Wally’s diaphragm right about now. He stared at the boy in surprise, and was met with a playful grin._

_“You’re an idiot,” Robin announced. “But at least your nose didn’t bleed. A lot, anyway.”_

_Oh. Cool.  “Cool!” Wally broke into a grin, sitting straight up with glee. Then—“Ow—ow, ow, owowowowOW—” He clutched his nose—which, yeah, okay. Hurt._

_Definitely worth it though. Ow._

 

**xxx**

 

October nights in Palo Alto were brisk. Leaves had lost their youth, fading into crisp orange remnants that found comfort in corners and beneath skeletal trees. They swept across the ground, allowing wind to pluck and whisk them away they pleased, until landing on a new home, and waited to be cast away yet again. It was three in the morning when Nightwing returned to the town, zeta-beaming from a cavern hidden by a strategically placed cardboard box. Streets were barren aside from happy college students who found new ways to entertain themselves in the night.

 

Taking a breath, Dick rolled the painful ache out of his shoulder from when Clayface had slammed him into the wall. _Nothing that couldn’t be fixed in the morning._ Alfred had doted, Babs scolded, and Tim had given him a pleasant grin that was met with quiet snickers behind the Dark Knight’s back. Yeah. Definitely something that could be fixed in the morning.

He felt a symphony of cracks as he twisted himself and made the short walk back to Artemis and Wa— _Wally’s_ house. He’d figured, anyone who stopped him in the dead of the night would either be too drunk to recognize him or sober enough to acknowledge who he was. _Thirsty Thursdays_ , was what Artemis called it one night when it was just she and him. Back when Wally had stormed off in frustration.

 

Biting the inside of his mouth, the teen decided— _no, probably not a good idea to mention Artemis for a while._ Not until Wally could accept the fact his girlfriend was on the superhero roster again. He sucked in another breath, suddenly feeling the air passage in his lungs constrict, and climbed up the stairs to Wally’s apartment door.

 

Then, propped himself onto the rooftop, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. His feet touched the roof tiles, careful and without the smallest creek (a technique he’d learned after years of practice.) Crawling his way to the front, the window was unlocked just as Wally promised.

 

There were two ways he perceived what was going to happen next: Wally would be asleep, after dying of boredom without the _(forced_ ) lack of human contact, or he would be awake in the living room, feigning studying, and calling Brucely a pig for eating everything in his doggy bowl.

 

No matter what age Dick was, scaring the shit out of one Wally West was never a bad greeting.

 

However at the mention of the former thought, Dick bit the inside of his mouth. He’d heard from Zatanna how hard Wally had taken the breakup. How solemn he was. She was consoling Artemis with what she called the 100% “Girl-Proof” Method (which meant kicking butts and making every thug in a twenty-mile radius cowered in fear), and he took it upon himself to comfort Wally. Even if doing so meant forcing Wally to take the bull by the horns.

 

Wally barely interacted with any of his old friends anymore unless they came to him. He hadn’t dropped by headquarters or attended any of the unofficial parties their (Dick’s) teammates enjoyed throwing. Even Dick, who saw more of Wally and Artemis on a daily basis than most, hadn’t seen him since July.

_Since the Reach disappeared._

Dick wanted his best friend back.

 

Nightwing wanted his best friend back on the team.

 

He…wanted his best frie—

 

Wally was asleep.

 

Staring obliquely through the blurry window, Dick could make out the dip in the queen sized bed, with a form sprawled diagonally over the mattress. He pushed the window open and promptly landed on his feet at the edge of the room.

 

A freckled hand twisted the pillow beneath the man tightly between his fingers. Red hair fell, meshing together on the surface of the soft cushion, and an arm wrapped stiffly over the case. Wally’s face was buried securely in the cloth, his breath muffled as his chest rose and fell in slumber.

 

The rest of him curled around the pillow like a fitful child holding his favorite toy to carry him throughout the night. Artemis’s pillow.

Watching his best friend made Dick’s heart drop to his stomach. He swallowed hard, looking at his best friend of eight years tense in his sleep. There was an ache in his chest—one more painful than the knick he had gotten in his shoulder from Clayface. The woeful chirps of crickets echoed from the window, melding with the soft _pat-pat_ of Brucely’s feet outside of the room.

 

The silence Dick felt was positively deafening.

 

He slunk his gauntlets carefully off his hands, placing them complacently on the nightstand. Bare fingers unbuckled the various straps of belts, memorized from years of wearing the uniform, with eyes that never left the dork curled so tightly on his bed. That _dork_ was probably drooling.

 

Unzipping his boots, Dick toed them away ever so carefully and treaded the length of the room. The bed dipped beneath his weight, and he crawled toward the center, shoving at Wally’s back as he did so.

 

“Move your ass,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Like wildfire, a jolt of energy shot through the speedster. Wally pushed himself off the bed, gasping for the air and wriggled across the bed before freezing. Emerald green eyes squinted at blue, bleary and jaded by sleep. The left side of Wally’s face twitched.

 

Biting back a smirk and a chuckle to accompany that, Dick pressed a hand to the redhead’s chest. He pushed the speedster against the bed, and watched his best friend’s hair fall into those eyes. _Those breathtaking eyes._ “Sleep.”

 

“Sleep,” Wally slurred, voice low and barely a form of the English language. He raised his hand, making a lazy gesture toward the door. “Queso.”

 

 _Queso…?_ Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

 

Snort. “Says you.” The man turned his head, burying his face back into Artemis’spillow before roughly hitting the space next to him. “Sleep.”

 

Dick’s lips twitched. He supposed _Kid Coherency_ would now be added to his mental list of _Nicknames for Wally West’s Innate Stupidity._ God knows, Wally probably thought he was _Artemis_ of all people, crawling into bed with her ex-boyfriend. He pushed the thought aside in his head, laying down gingerly next to his best friend.

 

The scent of Old Spice, mixed in with maple syrup and pancakes hit him immediately. Dick buried his face into Wally’s back, stifling another laugh and another retort. Wally made a disjointed noise—something that probably meant, _Shut Up, Boy Wonder, or I’ll Punch You_ , but didn’t push him off.

 

In fact, sleepy-Wally didn’t seem to mind or care.

 

Taking in the whiff of his best friend once more, Dick closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the man’s shoulder blade. His fingers played with the edge of Wally’s shirt, curling and rubbing against the material gently.

 

Right before he fell asleep, he felt Wally move and place the comforter over the both of them.

 

**xxx**


	2. Wake Up, STAR Labs, Family, Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick was still half asleep when he received an elbow to the face.

Dick was still half asleep when he received an elbow to the face.

 

He groaned, reflexively slinking away from the arm of the perpetrator who hit him, and looked in the dark with slumber filled eyes. Warmth radiated from the body next to him, and in the back of his mind, he remembered that he’d somehow ended up in Wally West’s queen-sized bed. He pressed his forehead into the heat on his said friend’s neck, breathing in the fragrance of heat, maple syrup and everything else that made up the speedster beneath the thick comforter. His fingers curled against the small of Wally’s back and eyes closed for restful slumber.

 

Wally jerked again. The mattress undulated beneath them as Wally spasmed, and Dick bit the inside of his mouth, focusing on the thought of sleep rather than a speedster who seemed to forget laying down didn’t involve _running in place._

 

Suddenly, every bit of warmth he felt was stripped away and replaced with numb coldness. Wally pushed off the bed, ultimately untangling from their assortment of knotted limbs and stood to his feet with a soft _crack_ at his ankles. Dick watched slowly as the redhead walked around the bed and shut the door quietly as he left.

 

Dick waited.

 

The bed felt alarmingly big, with his body sprawled across the long mattress and limbs unable to touch the sides. His head curled against his forgotten pillow (one that had been “forgotten” when he realized Wally was the perfect head cushion) and closed his eyes.

 

 _Just his luck_ , the dark-haired teen thought as he breathed in the scent of Wally’s pillowcase, that he would sleep well for the first time in a week, and the reason why had to disappear and take a piss.

 

He fell asleep before Wally could even open the door again—with less warmth and the beginning of a painful migraine.

 

When Dick woke up again, the said goofball was still not there.

 

Light fluttered through the open window from last night, oddly blinding and overbearing to his own eyes. He stirred hazily, matted in musky sweat and hair jutted out in excruciating hedges. The lingering ache from last night now throbbed as he attempted to move around across the length of the bed, with the veins in his neck contracting.

 

Dick pushed the hair out of his face and felt a foul taste in the back of his throat.  He rubbed away the mask of sleep from his eyes, cursing his uniform as he did so and looked at the other end of the bed.

 

No Wally.

 

Letting the realization set in, he tentatively slipped out of the bed, letting cold feet touch the chilly surface of the wooden floor before he reached out for the door. _Relax_. It was Friday. Still a school day—Wally probably had a morning class. _Probably slunk back into bed after you fell asleep, Grayson. Then left again._

Except, somehow he doubted he would have woken up so uneasily if Wally had slunk back into bed.

 

The lingering taste at the back of his throat soured as he exited the room. Oh.

 

Sprawled out on the couch was Wally, the redhead’s face buried tightly over the arm rest and legs dangling off the other end.

 

Standing at the door to the bedroom, Dick took in the sight carefully. The coffee table had been contorted at a lumbering angle, with his forgotten duffel bag kicked to the side—most likely by a stumbling speedster through the night. He could hear the man snore soundly from across the room, comfortable in his tiny nest.

 

_Oh._

 

A reason unbeknownst to him, Dick shivered, feeling uncouth and out of place. He pulled himself away from the scenario, rubbed the lax and stiffness from slumber away from his face again, and found himself in the kitchen.

 

Wally did not wake up until the husky sound of the coffee pot stirring resonated through the apartment. The soft _drip-drip_ of coffee into the pot held the old Boy Wonder’s attention, keeping him from studying the way his best friend was passed out over the couch. Part of him debated finding a blanket and laying it over his best friend. Another part of him reasoned that somewhere, there was an alarm clock set for his best friend to wake up and be somewhere eventually.

 

The last part of him shoved that nagging feeling; the one that strangely made him feel like crap.

 

Once he poured the fresh coffee into a mug, Dick could hear footsteps behind him as the wooden floors creaked. There was a clinking of dishes—and without even looking, he poured the rest of the pot into the redhead’s extended cup.

 

“Thanks,” Wally murmured groggily under his breath.

 

“No problem.”

 

“You…want milk? Half-and-half? Do you always drink it black?” Each sentence slowly carried with more energy as Wally woke up. The redhead appeared in the corner of the teen’s eyes, leaning calmly against the kitchen counter. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the said flavoring. “You okay?”

 

At the side of his vision, Dick watched Wally’s face morph with concern. He turned around, pressed up against the kitchen counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I—” Dick stopped short. Before he could finish the sentence with the words, _‘—missed you._ ’ Instead, “Your bed feels like a ton of rocks.”

 

“I guess.” Wally shrugged. He dumped the contents of his half-n-half into the cup and tossed the carton to the younger man. “You look like shit.”

 

“I’m not the one who fell asleep on the couch.”

 

“Yeah. I.” The redhead’s voice fell. His lips curled into a frown and he looked up to the ceiling as though it had all the answers. Scratching his head, Wally’s face twisted oddly before he shook his head. His hair, per usual, jutted out in an unruly red mess, with an amusing amount of it stuck to the side of his face. “Must’ve…gotten up, taken a leak, and tripped over the couch—then just fell asleep. I remember hitting my head.”

 

“Only _you_ would hit your head while you take a leak.”

 

Scoff. “Not _during._ ” Though, Wally’s face twisted, animating into amusement. He waved his hand dismissively and took a long sip of his coffee. “Anyway. You got the bed to yourself, right? I’ve been told I punch in my sleep.”

 

 _Elbows, too._ Omitting a sigh, Dick pushed off the counter and sat his unsipped coffee down. He combed fingers through tangled hair and grimaced when realizing they were stuck in knots. “I should go.”

 

“Shower, first?”

 

Uh. Not even all of the gears in Dick Grayson’s mind were turning this early in the morning.

 

Wally waved his hand toward the open bathroom door, completely content with his _half-n-half_ /coffee concoction as he gulped down the rest of it. “I’ll leave some spare clothes on the counter. Seriously—you look like crap. Didn’t know the _devastatingly handsome_ playboy son could look so ugly.”

 

“You’re just a charmer, aren’t you?”

 

“Hey. I’m the one who was in a long term relationship.” Wally waved his hand again and grinned.

 

One had to wonder how Dick went from the one cheering someone up to being cheered up. He stared at his best friend carefully, then nodded before starting for the bathroom. “Won’t use your razor or anything. I know how stupid you get about that.”

 

“ _Hey._ Your hair’s thick. How do you expect me to get your goddamn _luscious_ locks out otherwise?” Wally rolled his eyes after him. “I liked you better when you didn’t grow facial hair.”

 

“You’re just jealous,” Dick called back, “because I can grow it faster than _you._ Hahaha.”

 

There was a muffled cry from the other side of the bathroom door. Dick elected to ignore it, in favor of looking at the damage in the mirror. For one thing, Wally had been right—he looked like crap. He’d never slept so poorly in the middle of the night in his life. Grimacing in the mirror, he was met with a startling, gritty smile with grimy sweat stains apparent on the Kevlar of his uniform. _Ugh._

 

Dick unzipped the uniform and tossed it aside. There were many bits and pieces that went with the Nightwing uniform, but fortunately most of that had been tossed aside somewhere in Wally’s room. He moaned softly, feeling hot water hit him after he stepped into the tub and turned the knob for water.

 

Closing his eyes, the teen let everything from yesterday’s activities be scrubbed away with a bar of soap. He looked around the small tub—completely clean, set with a rubber ducky shower curtain. It had to be the oddest experience—with the oddest way to explain it, once he left the house. _Came to Wally’s place, slept with him, shower in the morning._ Yeah. That was going to get a look or two when he got back to the base.

 

Sighing, Dick tested out his aching shoulder by rotating it carefully. The soreness was dull—most likely to fade by the end of the night. For Alfred’s sake, he would go back to his apartment and maybe ice it. Water fell as a heavy comfort, soaking his skin and the thick layer of grime and sweat he’d acquired from patrol. He could see the dirt slide off his own body and swirl around until it disappeared at the bottom of the drain.

 

Reaching out, Dick grabbed the first bottle of shampoo he could— _Garnier Fructis Length & Strength. _

 

Well. Suffice to say that it definitely wasn’t Wally’s.

 

Quirking an eyebrow of amusement, he poured the contents in the palm of his hands and scrunched the soap in his hair. After that, the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Dick waited a moment, expecting to hear the sufficient _click_ of it _closing_ , but it never came. “That you, Wall?”

 

There was a stumble—maybe a laundry basket that was now suddenly knocked over—and the door shut outside the bathtub with a loud sound.

 

Snort. Graceful as ever.

 

As the water turned tepid, Dick shivered. He finished with his quick shower, scrubbing every inch of himself clean, and forced down the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him he was in _Wally West’s bathroom._ Naked. Which—wasn’t an unusual thing for him. He’d slept over on occasion when Wally and Artemis first went to college. As Dick’s morning slowly dragged on in the West-(ex)Crock duplex, however, he felt more awkward. Like hell he didn’t know why.

 

 _Wally West. Single for the first time in five years_ —and that was the loudest thing his mind was focused on.  Biting the inside of his mouth, Dick groaned loudly and pressed his head to wet shower tiles. Perfect.

 

Best friend back first, Grayson. Then, convincing said best friend back on the team.

 

Then, all the way at the bottom of the list, _figure out sad, pathetic feelings._

 

He turned the water off as it finally went from lukewarm to plain cold and dried off. Dressing in the clothes Wally had lain out for him, Dick stretched the shirt oddly against his neck and rolled his eyes in the mirror.

 

Of course his best friend would think _spare change of clothes_ meant firmly imprinting a glow-in-the-dark Bat Symbol on his chest.

 

“ _Very funny_ , Wally.”

 

Coming out of the bathroom, he was met with an empty apartment. Dick blinked. As he searched the house he found his gloves, boots, utility belt and other things folded neatly on the bed next to his duffle bag. On the bag was a yellow sticky note.

 

_Running late. Went to STAR Lab for internship. Feed the dog and let yourself out._

 

\- _Wally_

Dick crumpled the note in his hands.

 

Very funny. 

 

**xxx**

Last night’s spasms had to be the worst, leaving a shooting pain in Wally’s back every time he raised his arm. The evening had drawled on so slowly after Dick left that Wally busied himself with miniscule things. He cleaned up the house, ridding it of everything that came in _pairs_ (except for his shoes—runner or not, he needed something to walk in), then washed the bed sheets in attempt get rid of Artemis’s perfume. (It was a harsh thought, Wally knew—but he figured since Artemis was now living with Zatanna without any trace of him, he had the right to do so without a trace of her.)

 

In the end, he knew he’d roll onto her side of the bed, burying his face in her pillow and seeking out the last ounce of her scent. He searched for it in his clothes, around the room, and even on the floor. Somehow, Wally managed to fall asleep by convincing himself he would call Dick in the morning to make plans over the weekend. If the guy wasn’t busy.

 

After Dick came, sleeping didn’t seem to be a problem. He felt a warmth that hadn’t been there in months—since Artemis had left him. Since…Wally had left Dick.

 

He slept soundlessly, knowing the flesh of another person was right beside him. Best of all, that person was his best friend of eight years—and, Wally concluded, if he never had another lover again he would be perfectly content spending eternity with Dick Grayson.

 

Then—like he said—the pain kicked in.

 

Wally winced as the woman—Dr. Shriver—ran gloved hands over his back carefully in search for a bulge or a bump that had not been there before. She stopped her handiwork, pressing her palm at the sore spot in the redhead’s back once again, and Wally almost fell off the lab table.

 

“How does that does that feel?” She asked softly, voice decorated with a Czech accent. Her fingers were firm, pressing at the sharp bone blow his neck.

 

“Like my spine’s on fire,” he admitted. Wally looked down to his hands. His good one curled tightly into the table beneath him, while the other sat limp across the surface. Short bursts tingled through the shambled limb before it disappeared into numbness.

 

The room he was in was only slightly bigger than the one he would find going to the doctor’s office. They were painted a sullen baby blue, as though it was a poor attempt to calm a patient down, with various statistics and dull charts with results from the other scientists had posted in his out. Wally’s various x-rays were pinned to a board—black and as discomforting as he felt.

 

“And your hand?”

 

“Can’t feel it. Spreading down my wrist now.” Wally ran two good fingers across the veins beneath his forearm and shivered. It felt stiff as he rotated it. Dead. “Woke up last night, left the room to endure the shocks and I guess I passed out. My best friend found me on the couch this morning.”

 

Suddenly he couldn’t help the pang of built in his chest. Dick looked unsettled when they saw each other after waking up. After they both showered, Wally would have treated his best friend to _Krispy Kreme Donuts_ and hold his breath until the Boy Wonder told him the problem. Instead, Wally rushed over to the lab first thing, jotting down a quick note and tossing most of Nightwing’s belongings onto the bed.

 

“How long did it last this time?” she asked, reaching over to her clipboard to write notes down.

 

Wally squeezed his eyes shut. “Ten minutes.” Two and a half minutes longer than last time.

 

Doctor Shriver frowned. “Your last spasm was two weeks ago, Wallace.”

 

It was the closest interval of time between his spasms. Which was what the doctor was getting at. Wally had been experiencing the shocks and jolts in his body for over three years now—back before he started college when he was still Kid Flash. They’d been sporadic and frequent back then, but as he got older and repelled from using his speed, they’d slowly spread out.

 

_Spread out. Not gone forever._

 

“In the past year, you’ve used your super speed on more than one occasion back on the field. Forcing that energy and added on stress,” Dr. Shriver clicked her tongue and went over to the computer across the room to type in her results, “has not done well.”

 

“I’ve only run a little. When it was needed.” Wally’s eyebrows crinkled together. “You don’t think that could actually accelerate the problem.”

 

“You know as well as I do that it is not about how many times you use your speed, but how you act upon it given the situation.” Dr. Shriver pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and looked back. “I’m not a speedster myself, but I imagine you’re going full throttle, or at least pushing yourself, as you ran.”

 

Only until he could feel the burn in his chest, and his heart collapsing beneath the lashes of crackling energy. Biting the inside of his mouth, Wally leaned back and cradled his bad arm in his lap. _The whir of power. Wind slapping his face as he rushed against it. A gravel path as traction for his feet. And…claws, digging into his heart and ripping out of his stomach. Ribs feeling like they were vibrating out of his body._

 

“How long do you think I have then?” he asked quietly, forcing the thoughts away from his mind. “Until I lose the feeling in the rest of me?”

 

“My guess is as good as yours.” Dr. Shriver shook her head solemnly. “We’ll keep testing you. Stretch the problem out as long as we can.”

 

“And if this past year has just killed me already?”

 

“Hopefully, we’ll find out today.”

 

Wally nodded in agreement. He reached over the table to put his shirt back on, then carefully eased onto the floor. Discomfort shot through his left leg, straining the limb as he stood flat on his feet. Instinctively, he seethed, hoping to balance out the problem. Instead, he gripped the table beneath him with his good hand, dead one falling at his side.

 

Dr. Shriver looped an arm beneath him, carefully supporting the boy that was two heads taller than her. Wally sucked in a breath, quietly thanking the woman. When he opened his eyes, he only saw pity in her eyes.

 

“Give it a few seconds,” Wally assured her, voice cracking. “I’ll be fine.”

 

And thank god he was—up on his feet and able to walk after a few steady heartbeats.

 

He was only partially lying when he explained to Dick his internship to STAR Labs. Wally had taken it earlier in the year when Artemis had gone deep undercover, in hopes to keep himself busy. And…to keep himself from returning to the field. It was hard—evidence given when he’d put the suit on when his cousin first arrived, and again upon hearing Nightwing’s announcement they would finally put the mission behind them and get both Artemis _and_ Kaldur back.

 

The first time his body had gone into hyper-accelerated shock at work, he’d dropped the humdrum order of lattes and designated coffees for his new mentors and collapsed at the ground. The pain was like having a knife wedged in every opening between his ribcage—each rotating, turning axels until points spiked the disks in his back. Then his bones threatened to vibrate out of his body, carving into the flesh and meat that compacted his being so tightly. Wally would sometimes forget the ability to breathe—which was when he would tap out the time waited with his right index finger.

 

That had been right after Bart came. After the, _‘why not_ ’ of putting the suit back on again, because there was the part of him that begged to be on the field again. Between his mentor, and evidently the future descendent of the Flash Family. Worth the pain though.

 

A different doctor had found him in the supply closet, hunched over with his back to the wall and beads of sweat sliding down his face. When asked why the coffee was strewn across the ground, Wally told the unconvinced scientist that he’d tripped. Three weeks later when he had another shock (thank god a much weaker one), the same doctor confronted him. Wally had the red hair, the proper build, and was in the proper age range to be Kid Flash. For a doctor that had grown up as a Flash fan from Central City, it wasn’t hard to convince him to help Wally finally isolate the problem.

 

Apparently civilians weren’t as oblivious as most heroes made them out to be. Wally liked to think it was the science degree that helped.

 

(There was also the fact his red hair made him a giveaway—but, he decided not to mention it.)

 

They would test his decaying reflexes and his reaction time—asking him to squeeze stress balls and handles to measure how much of a grip still remained in his bad hand. He’d taken the tests at least twice a month, and more, if there happened to be a spasm. Other methods involved physical therapy to test his legs; to see how much feeling still remained.

 

A pulse monitor would be strapped to his wrist, and for them he would run circles around a large arena that was meant to help metahumans control their abilities. Around and around, in circles with his old Kid Flash goggles strapped to his face and the adrenaline slapping his cheeks until he felt his chest tighten in immense pain. The duration of time he could hold his speed was also measured. If anything were to happen in the lab, they were there to control the situation.

 

Through speed vision, he saw the blurred characters of his three doctors, all anticipating the moment he would need to stop. Wally could see the laptop in Dr. Shriver’s hands, and the tiny frown that furled over her face. 

 

Running, as always, was different than it was the last time. He didn’t put the strain on himself as he would on the field. Once he felt the familiar pang in his torso, Wally decelerated into walking distance and halted in front of the collection of doctors.

 

“How was that?” Pushing the goggles out of his face, he reached for a bottle of water on the table and chugged the contents empty.

 

“700 miles per second, per usual. Just a little bit under the speed of sound.” Dr. Shriver tapped down the results.

 

“I can go faster.” Wally winced, feeling a patch of dryness in the back of his throat. He reached for another bottle of water and bit the inside of his mouth. “It’s just that every time I do, I end up…hitting his wall.”

 

Once the pain arrived, it was a force that usually put him back. Dodging attacks at the summit back in June and neutralizing Neutron in February made the pain less noticeable, but he’d have a numb feeling in his muscles for a few days. After _June…_ it’d been a week before he felt like himself again. One long week that involved Artemis and this ‘ _hero_ ’ argument.

 

“So what happens next?” Wally asked. He unstrapped the pace monitor from his wrist and rolled on the balls of his feet to make sure they were still there. His calves felt numb—like they’d fallen asleep.

 

Dr. Shriver looked to Dr. Cheung and Dr. Attar tentatively, silently concurring for the next plan of action.

 

“More tests,” she announced.

 

**xxx**

Surprisingly, Mom had waited until later that afternoon to call him. Wally assumed that she’d been trying to refrain herself from picking up a phone once he informed her that Artemis and decided to end it for good. The last few months had been back and forth anyway, fighting about the hero thing. _I don’t want you to get hurt_ , he argued with her. _What about our_ friends _?_ she argued back. Wally knew better than to put down the job their friends committed themselves to. _Not job. Life._

They’d broken up officially the week before, but they might as well have been done when Dick had made that phone call all those months ago back in January. He’d confided in Uncle Barry about it in following months, letting his anger get the best of him so he refused to talk to Nightwing. Not that he could, anyway—the stress of being leader and trying to maintain sanity with the team made him a preoccupied bird. Wally’s uncle had to be the most patient guy he knew, giving that sad golden-retriever kicked puppy look when Wally announced his retirement. It’d been heartbreaking on both ends because…Wally really, _really_ did _not_ want to give up the mantle.

 

But he managed to choke out the words, “I can’t be Kid Flash forever,” and Uncle Barry understood.

 

When it came to his mom, she absolutely adored Artemis. It was almost frightening. Okay— _really_ frightening. She and Aunt Iris were scary forces (and sheesh, now that Aunt I was pregnant, Wally knew that he didn’t want to get on her bad side) that Wally knew better than to get cross with. Once Mom found out what the fighting with Artemis had been about, she nearly bashed his skull in for ever suggesting keeping Artemis away from doing what she loved.

 

The last time they visited, Mom gave Artemis a motherly peck on the cheek as though talking to her own child and wished her all the happiness. Now, it came time to console her baby boy after being in a long-term relationship of five years. She promised him food, and bought Tupperware for comfort food that would last him at least today and tomorrow. He pointed out it was basically an ego-bruiser for her to invite the entire family over with the subject title, _Comfort Wally after a Nasty Breakup._

 

She then nagged him for sulking and bribed him with macaroni and little smokies. _Oh yeah._ Wally West Fact: He had the best mother ever.

 

After all the tests at STAR Labs, they instructed Wally to take the rest of the day off and relax. He returned to his house, which felt too big for an occupant of one. The dog had been fed, and according to the sticky note Dick left on the door, also let out to pee. _Trust Mister Perfect to make his life easier._

 

And, you know, harder, given their track record and the amount of bruises Wally had acquired since meeting one nefarious Dick Grayson. The coffee mugs were washed, bed had been made, and bathroom sink even clean from when Dick stayed over. The house was empty. Unnerving.

 

So, Wally hopped into the shower to rid of the copious amount of sweat he’d acquired while at STAR Labs and the morning smog from earlier. He’d always heard the first night after a huge breakup was the worst, but Wally factored that into waking up with the remote digging in his back and legs dangling over the armrest. The fact didn’t slap him in the face until Mom’s phone call that—yeah. Artemis and he were broken up.

 

Now he was wondering how he managed to go twenty-four hours without thinking of her—and wondered, if he could make that work for the rest of eternity. Wally made a mental note to call Dick. That was going to make him feel better—and he knew the guy was hoping to salvage their friendship as much as he did.

 

His dad, just as usual, was waiting to meet him at the zeta-beam point in Central City once he arrived. The fresh scent of cottonwood trees and bread from the nearby bakery filled his nose, and Wally could feel the gusto of home swell in his belly.

 

Evidently, Dad had fallen asleep waiting on him. Wally nearly scared the poor man as he banged on the car door. They pulled over to pick up a box of donuts (and donut holes, for Bart) on the ride home and turned the station to politics to make fun of the candidates.

 

“You doing well?” Dad asked gruffly as they were halfway through town.

 

He didn’t ask like Mom would once they got home. However, the questions Wally always received from his old man were fit and straight to the point. The redhead leaned back in his seat, a sloppy sigh rattling from his throat. “Like my heart’s been trampled by a giant elephant and thrown out with monkey shit.”

 

“Vivid,” the man mused, and he chuckled on his breath.

 

“You and Mom. You’re not…mad that she and I weren’t endgame, right?” Wally only said that because this was the year he feared Artemis and he wouldn’t last. And for that thought to even cross his _mind…_ well. That made him feel like dirt. “You know. That Artemis and I didn’t end up lasting?”

 

Dad made an old nose from Wally’s childhood—one that usually meant his son had done something incredibly stupid and very amusing. They made their way to the suburban part of Central City and pulled into Wally’s old neighborhood. “Son, your mother and I both love Artemis. But you’re going to have more relationships in some life. Maybe one more—maybe more than one more. Just because your mother and I were high school sweethearts doesn’t mean we expect you and her to be the same.”

 

“Message received.” Wally snorted. “Maybe I’ll just switch to guys.”

 

Again, Dad made the sound that cued the redhead’s (apparently) infamous stupidity. Though the reason why, Wally never thought to ask.

 

“I was serious about that.” Wally smirked wryly.

 

Which was met with a smile under his dad’s mustache. “Me too, son.”

 

They pulled up behind Jay and Joan’s old sedan and the new SUV Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry bought for the babies. Once Bart had “spoiled” the fact they were expecting twins (and Uncle Barry’d gotten over the shock that his wife was pregnant _and_ having twins), the second Flash had made several incomprehensible hand gestures and blabbed aloud, “ _Car._ ”

 

Once the kids were old enough, Barry wouldn’t be able to haul three people over his shoulder as he normally would. (Well—Uncle Barry _could_ , but it just wouldn’t be a wholesome family image.) According to Aunt I, Barry tended to leave it at work six nights out of seven.

 

Bart was darting around the house in his uniform, fixing up the living room and also setting up the table for eight. He stole the donut holes out of Wally’s grip before Dad or he could announce their presence. Seven of those donut holes were already in Bart’s mouth by the time he slowed down. “Crash! Thanks!”

 

Wally groaned and rolled his eyes. “Did you run here like this?”

 

“Sedan’s slow. Plus—came all the away from Bludhaven.” The brunet looked up to his cousin childishly and crammed another hole into his mouth. “I feel naked in civvies.”

 

Twitch. Wally decided best not to comment.

 

“ _Wally._ ” At that moment, Aunt Iris waddled into the room with her swollen belly—nearly nine months pregnant, with the babies soon to come in the following weeks. She gasped happily once her eyes set on her nephew and brought him into a bone-crushing hug. “I was wondering when you would show your face.”

 

“Got a little held up at my internship.” Lie. Wally smiled evenly and hugged her back—“ _Whoa._ Was that a kick?”

 

“Only a few more weeks until their due date.” Iris sighed forlornly and rubbed her belly with a tiresome, wistful look and then eyed Uncle Barry playfully as he came into the room. “Though can’t say I didn’t expect that. Runners can’t seem to sit still. Like this one.” She ruffled a hand through Bart’s hair affectionately to convey her point, who beamed.

 

Uncle Barry sunk a bite into his apple, clearly confused of what he’d just walked into. “Sorry?”

 

Aunt Iris ignored him and placed a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Or like you.”

 

“Ex-runner,” Wally corrected almost instinctively. Realizing he was surrounded by family, he omitted the need to restrain a heavy sigh. His aunt kissed him affectionately on the cheek.

 

“How you holding up?”

 

“Elephant trampling heart. Then thrown out like monkey poo.” Wally waved his hand— _been there, done that._ The question would be asked at least a dozen more times before the night was over. At the moment Wally was ready to drown that said heart out with macaroni and little weenies.

 

Before he had the chance to dwell on depressing ministrations, Uncle Barry placed a hand a hand on his shoulder with a sympathetic smile curling across his lips. “How about we take a run later? That may clear your head.”

 

Right. Running. Shaking his head, Wally forced a smile of his own, trying to match the man’s kindness, but it broke. “Not right now, Uncle Barry. Rain check?”

 

Hesitation fluttered across the man’s face, but Uncle B finally agreed. “I’m holding you to it.”

 

The rest of his night went smoothly. Aunt Iris requested Bart to change out of his uniform to formal wear, to which he obediently agreed after zipping upstairs (“ _You little_ —is that my sweater?” “It’snotlikeit’llfityouanymore. Besides, it looks good on me!”). They set the dinner table with many of Wally’s favorite entrees (aka—everything). Mom showered him in kisses until Wally’s face was permanently covered in lipstick, and the evening carried on like one of their Flash Family dinners.

 

Bart swiped food off his plate (the brat was just so damn _small_ ), so Wally would do the same. (“Heythat’ssonotfair!” “All’s fair in food and war!”) Eventually, the entire thing had dissolved into a giant eating contest until “Aunt” Mary pulled them both by the ear and demanded they quit. And being the mother she was, she already had more entrees ready in the kitchen, knowing that the pair would somehow end up bickering.

 

When Mom, Joan, and Aunt Iris started discussing giving birth, how much Wally weighed at birth—what _nipples_ were the best kind to buy—they agreed childbirth was gross, unsettling, and that they’d never want to be women.

 

Wally would never admit it, but past the annoyance (and admittedly, a little jealousy) of Bart being _Bart_ , he liked watching his little cousin run around the house and collect dirty plates. A smile would grace the boy’s lips—bright and vivid no matter how many times he did it in the night, with eyes that glowed every time someone addressed him. He, along with Uncle Barry, were always the first to get up if Aunt Iris requested something, and would politely listen to both ‘Aunt Mary’ and Joan.

 

It was better than what Bart had grown up with.

 

_Really, the kid fit in just fine with the family._

 

Eventually, the topic finally circled back to Wally.

 

“You have any plans now that Artemis and you are broken up?”

 

The redhead looked across the table to Jay’s kind smile mid-bite. There was a way that he smiled that made Wally automatically smile back. Setting down his spoon, he struggled to maintain that said grin, but it dissolved into a frown. “Dunno, really. I’ve got till the end of next month until my lease is up. And I actually want to keep the dog, so…” Shrug. “Maybe see if I can find an apartment nearby that allows pets. Once I graduate, I planned on moving to Keystone. So I could commute from there..”

 

“Running?” Bart piped in bluntly. He swiped a chicken leg from his cousin’s plate.

 

Wally swiped it back. _“Zetabeaming._ ”

 

“And socially, dear?” Joan smiled next, clasping her hands together affectionately. She leaned forward to hear his answer.

 

Again, Wally couldn’t help but shrug and scratched his head. “How soon is ‘too soon’ to start dating again?”

 

Oddly, all of the adults at the table exchanged looks. What Wally saw at the other end of the table reminded him of the way Shriver, Cheung, and Attar had all looked at him.

 

“You’re taking this break up much cleaner than I would have expected, dear.” Mom flashed a look, eyebrows contorted together. She looked ready to cry.

 

“Yeah, well.” Wally shrugged and looked down at his food. He wasn’t sure how to say, _we basically broke up the moment Artemis put on that Tigress uniform_ without it sounding like…that. Artemis and he essentially prepared for it the entire year.

 

Silence was the only probable conclusion to his sentence. None of his family members knew how to correspond.  Eventually, Barry zipped over to him and patted Wally on the back. In his hand was the gravy boat and a bowl of mashed potatoes.

 

“You take as much time as you need.” Uncle Barry scooped the food on the redhead’s already massive pile on his plate and ruffled his hair affectionately. “You’ll be back on your feet and find a nice girl when the time’s right. Like your aunt.”

 

The redhead thanked his old mentor quietly before the evening could crumple into an awkward silence. Picking up his spoon again, the corner of his lip raised wryly. “It’s not _all_ that bad, I guess. Dick and I are reigniting our friendship. I think he thinks the breakup is his fault, but I’m at the point I don’t care.” He was just happy to get his best friend back.

 

Silence again. Great. He made it mental proof for his mother the next time she suggested a giant Flash Family dinner to _cheer him up._

 

“Is he seeing anyone right now?” Aunt Iris asked amiably.

 

“Not that I’m aware of.” Wally turned his head to his cousin for confirmation.

 

Bart shrugged and grinned impishly. “Who knows! No one ever tells me anything.”

 

“That’s because you _barge into the room_ and find out before anyone can actually _tell_ you.” Wally rolled his eyes and nudged the boy in the arm. “Anyway, why? I can invite him over next time if you want. Don’t think he’d be opposed to that.”

 

“No reason, hon.” Then Aunt Iris smiled—one that was supported by everyone else in the room; even Dad under his mustache. “How about we actually eat now, before Bart takes it all?”

 

Uh. “Alright.”

 

The rest of dinner with smoothly—until Bart and he got into a dinner roll fight. They watched the football game, tossed _a_ football in the backyard, and all got a feel of Aunt Iris’s belly when the twins started kicking again.

 

**xxx**

Wally returned to his house exhausted.

 

He dropped the keys onto the coffee table and fell over face-first on his couch. Let it be known that one was _not_ to underestimate how much food was presented at a Flash Family dinner—it was enough for him to deliver a food baby or two later tonight. The redhead sighed blissfully—and achingly. There wasn’t anything more pleasant than being able to eat himself into exhaustion.

 

Well, maybe sex. But he figured he wouldn’t be getting any of that for a while.

 

“Hiya.”

 

 _“Gah._ ”

 

Then, there was Bart. Who, in eight months of knowing him, still didn’t know the definition of _knocking._ Wally groaned as he heard the speedster run about his house—no doubt to find a snack in the fridge. Bart probably found the cookies Megan had brought over the day before as a sort of comfort food for the redhead. Looking up, Wally found his cousin staring back at him with a wily grin and chocolate chips smeared on his face. All while in uniform.

 

“You do realize Bludhaven is in the _other direction,_ right?” He pointed his hand for emphasis. Weekends, if he was right, were still reserved for missions.

 

Bart ran circles around the coffee table, provoking Brucely to raise his drowsy head from the floor in curiosity. “Yeahwell, I can be there in _seconds._ No worries, _hermano._ Anyway, I wanted to talk to you!”

 

“If this is about getting you tickets to Comicon, I’m not doing it.”

 

“It’s about your powers.”

 

Pause. Wally propped himself on his arms and stared at the kid warily. “What about them?”

 

“You’re dying.” Bart sobered—the look of boyishness disappearing from his face and eerily contorting. The seriousness of his demeanor made chills run through the back of Wally’s neck. “Aren’t you?”

 

 _What the hell._  

 

Green eyes stared at green, stun glowing in the redhead’s orbs. HIs breath caught, until all air depleted from his lungs and throat dried—everything to keep from conjuring a smart response for the speedster that stood parallel to him.

 

Before he could think of an excuse—confirm, or deny the claim, Bart continued. His demeanor softened and he set the cookies aside on the table carefully. “I read a lot of history books about the past. Of course I’d read about you too. First cousin, once removed, remember? And after all, you do become—” The brunet’s voice stopped.

 

“Become what?” Wally repeated once he found his voice again.

 

Impulse shook his head, his arms crossing in refusal to answer the question. In the dark it wasn’t hard to recognize the guilt in his irises. “Nothing important now. But. The book does talk about your powers. And the…situation.” He moved his hands in a way similar to Barry’s—and partially, like Wally himself. In the back of his mind the redhead couldn’t help but remind himself that this was a kid whose ‘ _character’_ had been built to fool all of them. “Numbness. Loosing feeling in your body and stuff. Am I right?”

 

The shock was still making its way through Wally’s mind as he watched the teen in front of him. Bart looked nervous—like he hadn’t exactly planned on how to address the situation. Blabbing had its benefits. “And?”

 

“You get through it. You don’t die.” Bart’s eyes glowed with concern. He clutched the arm rest carefully and squeezed it tightly between his fingers. His gaze darted to the ceiling, to the floor—everywhere, nervously. Then to Wally again, completely serious with his brow furrowed. “The books just…weren’t clear how. And I’m not really sure _exactly, but—_ “

 

“You’re saying there’s a cure.”

 

Bart blinked—clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah. You get your speed back and everything.”

 

“I get to be Kid Flash again?” The words left Wally’s mouth before he had the chance to think of what he’d just said. His speed would come back.  No way. _No way._ Again, he repeated, “There’s a cure.”

 

Nod, nod. “You...found one. Like I said, I don’t know how—”

 

“ _There’s a cure._ ”

 

The speedster breathed huffily, looking ready to blow from constant interruption. Dizzy in the head, Wally obediently backed off. _Calm it,_ West. Bart said there was a cure. But that he didn’t know what it was. “I…can’t tell you what it is. I don’t _know_ it. But I can help you find it.”

 

Wally stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

 

“I won’t tell anyone either. About the problem. The invasion’s over, and…you’re my mission now. I.” Impulse shook his head, his hair waving as he did so like a child’s. He looked smaller than he did before—like a frightened little boy with bright emerald green eyes. “I won’t let you die.”

 

The elder speedster’s eyes were wet. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest, and Wally’s lips pressed together.

 

Before the boy could blink, he had his baby cousin in a tight hold—constricting, with arms wrapped firmly around his baby cousin’s torso. Bart made a sound—one that wasn’t out of protest. Wally’s head buried in the crook of the brunet’s neck and he took in a deep breath to calm himself—to keep his head from spinning too much.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

 

Bart hugged him back, hands fisting into Wally’s t-shirt and nose nuzzling Wally’s ear. “Anytime, cuzzo.” 


	3. Calendar, Show Down, Pancakes, Basketball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t.” She raised a hand again, blonde eyebrows pinching together in frustration. Dick couldn’t help but think in the back of his mind of how Wally’d done the same thing the first night they were together. Brown eyes opened, narrowing at the teen that sat parallel to him, and stared at him sternly. “There’s no fucking way in hell that I’m going to let you sit across from me and apologize for a choice that had been my own, Dick Grayson. Wally does not, and has never spoken for me. It was my decision to come back to the team. And we both made the adult decision to see other people when that happened. I should shove my quiver down your throat for trying to go in this whole, macho-‘It’s-my-fault’ route. You don’t talk for me either.”

 

A week later found Nightwing at the Watchtower with his legs propped over the computer and hands fiddling with the calendar on his holocomp. Beneath the mask his eyebrows were pinched together and a frown was curled firmly at his lips. The team was sent home once the mission was over—leaving Dick Grayson by himself and struggling to rearrange his schedule to fit around Wally’s. Or rather—to figure out when Wally had free time.

 

His said best friend had been busy over the past few days. He didn’t want to push it by visiting Wally’s place again unannounced—in case things really had gone sour since his last visit. Dick had left the after a few kind acts of his own— _clean the living room, wash the dishes…_

 

Something to busy himself and make the situation a bit more normal. Half the week Wally’s phone had been turned off. Dick texted, but it would take hours before Wally would respond. The one conversation they’d gotten into, Wally had sounded stressed with Bart’s voice in the background.

 

Well. At least there was someone who could cheer him up. Dick decided once he changed, he would make the gesture of once more of just…showing up. If that wasn’t too forward. Dick sunk in his seat and pressed a hand to his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and groaned.

 

Great, Grayson. Play the tentative crush. That was definitely his M.O. But that hadn’t been his only concern.

 

Peaking through his fingers, he let the holocomp switch to the personal notes that he’d made throughout the night when he was out with the redhead. Wally had cut him off at every instance before he could suggest the red and yellow suit again.

 

The redhead disliked the thought of being at one end of a relationship, when his other half would be on the field and putting herself in danger on a regular basis. Given the crazy year and ‘faking’ deaths, Dick couldn’t blame him on that account. Yet, in all the instances that Wally could have made his life faster (like cleaning up their chip fight) Wally had done so slowly. He’d walked through every room at a languid, human pace and… _even drove a car now._ Yikes.

 

“You look like shit.”

 

“Funny. I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” Immediately shutting the holocomp off, the corner of Dick’s lip curled. A hand squeezed his shoulder, comforting and sweet, but also made him feel worse.

 

Artemis threw a powerade in his lap and greeted him with a smirk. She looked to him from the side with a hand placed securely on the chair. The two of them had to be the only ones left. Awake, anyway. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

“It involves Wally.”

 

“Uhuh. Wanna talk about it?”

 

To that, Dick had to turn his head. He arched an eyebrow in the blonde’s direction, mouth upturned in confusion. Despite his reaction, Artemis’s demeanor remained. Which…somehow made him more self-conscious than he had been ten minutes ago. Or—in general.

 

“Never mind.” Artemis swiped the Powerade from his grasp and pulled the old Boy Wonder to his feet. She was dressed in civvies—a dark turtleneck, jeans, and a pair of good walking boots. In a matter of seconds, she toed the pair off and trekked back into the vast empty space. “We’ll spar.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

Apparently not, given the next look Artemis dared to give him. The amusement on her face had yet to falter. Instead, she seemed to deem it a perfect excuse to goad him on. “Call it aggressive-aggressive therapy.”

 

 _“Right._ ” And Dick couldn’t his own smile. In fairness, he unequipped both his utility belt, eskrima sticks, and toed off his shoes. Then, the old acrobat stepped forward in Artemis’s space, assuming a more alert stance. They stared each other down, brown eyes at opaque lenses. Dick couldn’t help the lump in his throat.

 

“So?” she asked finally. Artemis took the first strike. She feigned a punch, forcing Dick to fall back. Whirling around her, the teen grabbed their team’s archer by the arm.

 

“How am I supposed to answer that?” Dick’s voice strained in good humor and confusion. His thoughts immediately jumped to ‘ _bed with Wally.’_

 

The blonde in front of him twisted her body and delivered a quick swift to his jaw. Dick grunted in surprise, stumbling a few steps back, but recovered. They went back to circling each other, Nightwing’s hand rubbing his mouth gingerly and Artemis warily grinning. “Pretend that he and I never dated. Or that at the moment I’m not in the equation, so you can tell me what you two _idiots_ were up to.”

 

“But I don’t—”

 

“Talk to me like you would a friend to another friend, instead of the ex-girlfriend to your B.F.F.” This time, Artemis’s demeanor morphed slightly, her eyes narrowing in a dry threat. “We’re friends. Aren’t we, Boy Wonder? I’ll kick your ass if some stupid bro-code means more to you than what we’ve been through together.”  

 

“I’m the one to blame for getting you two involved after three years of your retirement.” Dick charged forward. He aimed to punch her, and the archer pivoted back with trained grace. Watching her with bated breath, he swung a leg in her direction and sucked on the inside of his cheek. " _I’m_ the one who separated you.”

 

“Is _that_ what you’re on?’ Artemis swooped and delivered an elbow to the teen’s stomach—which had more feeling to it than it normally would. She scoffed, and immediately the impishness from earlier disappeared, morphing infuriatingly. Which was when she swept her feet and forced Dick to the ground.

 

He landed with a grunt, and Artemis mounted him. “ _Oof._ ”

 

She scowled. Uh-oh. An elbow was jutted at Dick’s jugular, and immediately he knew he was in trouble. He didn’t even try to break free. “You do realize that Wally and _I_ are the ones that broke up,” she started slowly, “aren’t you?”

 

“I _know_ that.”

 

“ _I’m_ the one who decided to come back onto the team,” Artemis carried on, voice rising vehemently. “ _Not_ you. _Not_ him.”

 

“And I’m _glad_ to have you back. And he _respects_ your decision to go back to the team. His anger just…” Dick shrugged jerkily, looking up to the evident frown across the blonde’s face. “It has to go somewhere.”

 

Her demeanor softened. Barely. A flicker of concern appeared in her expression, then immediately evaporated. Artemis pressed her elbow harder at his neck, lips stretched again. “Talk to him.”

 

“Did.”

 

“And?”

 

“How long has he driven a _Honda_?”  

 

Pause. Blink, blink. Artemis tilted her head, eyes widening. Inwardly Dick groaned, anticipating the moment she would deck him. Instead, a carefully pronounced, _“Huh_ ,” left her lips—and then she— _“PfffftthahaahahahAHAHAHAhahahaa!_ ”—laughed.

 

Dick blinked owlishly, looking at the blond in utmost confusion. Regardless, the woman above him simply toppled back, hand clutching her gut as another roll of chortles left her throat. She tossed her head back, cackling at the top of her lungs.

 

He rolled his eyes. “You _D-O-N-E_ yet?”

 

“ _N. O._ ” The team’s archer wiped a tear from her eye and sighed softly. Slowly, she reclined and stood to her feet and sucked in a breath. Once Artemis was done laughing, Dick could see a flicker in her eyes. The smile that followed was miniscule, with thoughtfulness to her gaze that made his chest tingle guiltily.

 

“I’m serious,” Dick started, feeling the need to clarify. “Clean seats. Proper mirror. Both hands on the wheel, driving _perfectly fine_ —”

 

Artemis raised a hand to stop him. She extended it to help the teen up, and squeezed it tightly as they saw each other at eye level. Her smile stretched just slightly, even if the tension was still visible in her gaze. “You just let me beat your ass in a spar, Dick. Go hit the showers and put some civvies on. You need some evening pancakes.”

 

Snort. That’d been how he ended up in bed with Wally.  He was ready to say no, but the grin the blonde was giving him was too much to try and decline.

 

The old Boy Wonder considered himself lucky that their archer and he had known each other for so long. Artemis roughly pushed Nightwing in the direction of the team’s ‘designated lockers.’ “C’mon. We’re going to Flo’s.”

 

When he returned, Artemis had coordinated the zeta-beam to Gotham City. The diner both of them thought of was only two blocks away from their zeta-beam telephone booth, and the walk there had been silent. Dick thought better than to pester her. The way his night was going, he assumed he would be treading carefully for a while. Or, Arty was truly separating his problems and her life left behind with Wally. It didn’t help that neither one seemed to jump at the idea of possibly getting back together.

 

Every once in a while, the blonde would pull out her phone and skim it for messages. By the time they got to Flo’s Diner, Dick had a clear idea as to why.

 

“Is Kaldur really that worried about you?” He opened the door for her and looked expectantly as the archer’s eyebrow raised in surprise. Dick only shrugged.

 

Before the Invasion was over, Kaldur had been reinstated as an official member of the team. Superboy, Miss Martian, Zatanna, and Rocket had taken the decision well. Other elder members too, relieved that an important powerhouse to their team had not turned evil. Yet there were still upturned eyebrows and few voiced concerns from junior members who had no choice but obey the decision or even leave.

 

(Fortunately in the next months it hadn’t come to that. Discussing the ordeal with both Conner and Kaldur earlier on, they agreed it was a strange relief to see that the younger members were not willing to simply stand down.)

 

The following week had been a test for Artemis to officially return. Gar, knowing her as long as he did, had been ecstatic. The hesitation was apparent among other members, but they were hushed seeing Artemis on the field again. No one could doubt her skills. And—Dick did more than acknowledge them at times. Kaldur had been amongst the first to welcome her back. After so many months of working undercover together, it made sense they fell alongside each other.

 

“He wants to make sure that I’m adjusting,” Artemis said finally. They sat at a booth, ordered two separate drinks and—got down to talking.

 

The diner that they had gone to had been inspired by the 50s, with black and white tiled floors. Waitresses got by with old roller skates and wore the same dark red poodle skirts. They greeted each table happily and the question, _“What brings you guys to our retro-tastic diner?_ ” The first time Artemis and he had come here was back in sophomore year when an old classmate, Bette Kane suggested it. They’d ended up laughing for hours—and downing six or seven malts that made them look as gluttonous as the old resident speedster.

 

Artemis’s casual look disappeared, wry as her gaze narrowed to the teen and she shook her head dismissively. “You know Kal. He worries.”

 

“Of course he does.” That was what made him so respectable. Dick regarded his friendship with the man dearly after so many years. “Maybe I’m just surprised to see he owns a phone.”

 

“It’s waterproof.”

 

“Are… _you_ adjusting well?”  

 

“For the most part.” Artemis took the menus that had been lain out for them by their waiter. She sifted through the booklet without actually looking, and eyed the man across from her. Having her back on the team for the past week had been fantastic.

 

In many ways, Miss Martian had compared it to having Black Canary on the team again as a den mother. Wonder Girl had warmed up to their returning member quickly, Impulse seemed flippant about the idea of new members. To his surprise, Tim had been the one to pull Dick aside and make sure he hadn’t ended up rolling himself into another stress ball. Most importantly, the way Artemis acted and reacted on the field made all of them happy. There was a light in her eye; a beautiful, victorious gleam that let Nightwing and the rest of the senior members know how much she loved and missed playing the field again.

 

Artemis stirred the straw in her drink and sipped it carefully. “I’d be better if Wally had been on board with it.”

 

“Sorr—”

 

“Don’t.” She raised a hand again, blonde eyebrows pinching together in frustration. Dick couldn’t help but think in the back of his mind of how Wally’d done the same thing the first night they were together. Brown eyes opened, narrowing at the teen that sat parallel to him, and stared at him sternly. “There’s no fucking way in _hell_ that I’m going to let you sit across from me and apologize for a choice that had been my _own_ , Dick Grayson. Wally does not, and _has never_ spoken for me. It was _my_ decision to come back to the team. And we _both_ made the adult decision to see other people when that happened. I should shove my quiver down your _throat_ for trying to go in this whole, _macho-‘It’s-my-fault’_ route. You don’t talk for me either.”

 

“Okay. Okay, point taken.” Dick raised his hands as a peace sign, making a face as he did so. He grimaced as Artemis backed off, content with the reaction. “Sorry. Can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course you can.” Artemis arched an eyebrow, surprise registering in her features. Like, _why would he even need to ask that_?

 

“The car thing. _Why?_ ” That had to be the weirdest thing he’d seen the entire night he was with their old resident speedster. Maybe since he donned the mask and the cape. The times that he’d ever been in a moving vehicle with the pair, Artemis had always been designated driver. She tutted when Wally would bring food into the vehicle and smacked him if anything dripped.

 

The said girl looked to him. She blinked, then lowered her shoulders with a smile quirked across her lips. “Weird to see him drive, isn’t it? He used to be terrible at it. Idiot got a speeding ticket like every other mile.”

 

“All he ever went was five over.” Wally West _only_ going five miles over the speed limit was never a sentence that crossed Dick’s mind. Now he couldn’t help the face that went along with it. “This… _slowing down_ thing. I didn’t think he was so serious about it.”

 

“Apparently it was a graduation present. The car, I mean.” Shaking her head, Artemis looked to him carefully and sipped the rest of her milkshake. “It was the only thing that he asked his old man for right before college. I ended up driving for the most part. Which was fine. _Finally_ some open road. You know Gotham. It’s either subways, taxis, or walking. Or in your case, a nice stretch limo.”

 

“But. _Wally._ ” Dick made a gesture with his hands as though that described everything. He could see Artemis’s gaze follow it—and for some reason, her lips twitched. “It didn’t seem weird to you when he did it?”

 

“You know as well as I do that he puts the suit on if he really needs to. He’s done it over the years.” Artemis shook her head. “He and I both lived in dorm rooms our first two years in college. Dunno how his roommate took it, but Wally committed and slowed down. He was even late for a few dates once.”

 

“Valentine’s Day, 2014.” Dick translated for her. One of Wally’s bigger screw-ups.

 

The demeanor across her face softened. She shook her head gently, clearly replaying the memory in her head before pushing the hair out her face. Dick bit the inside of his mouth.

 

“I really am sorry,” he muttered, and his chest tightened. “That you two broke up.”

 

She’d probably gone the entire week hearing it from their friends. Artemis’s eyes shut tight and she waved her hand dismissively before rubbing the ache out of her temples, clearly annoyed at how many apologies she’d gotten. “It was for the best. But.” She looked to him expectantly, her hand curled tight around her glass. “You…really don’t like the fact that he’s retired, do you?”

 

 _I hate it._ “I can’t be mad at him if he wanted to step down. It was his decision.” Dick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “But speed is just who he is. For as long as I’ve known him, it’s…been his thing. For him to not acknowledge it just…makes me mad.” Yet every time he brought it up, Wally only got more annoyed. “And I can’t _hang_ with him the way it is now. I dropped everything _last weekend_ to go see him. Don’t think that’ll fly over twice.”

 

“You miss him,” Artemis translated.

 

“I miss him,” Dick agreed. “I want my best friend back.”

 

“If…it helps,” she reached over and placed a hand over his. “He felt like shit whenever you were given the leadership and he quit. He kept telling me how those two things shouldn’t have coincided together.”

 

“We were on good terms back then.” A lot better than they were now. Easier with words and joking. When Wally and Artemis both announced that they were retiring from the team to focus on college, Wally had run out to him to make sure he was okay.

 

And babbled for what seemed like hours why the younger teen would still be able to operate without him. Wally promised they would keep in touch. Then, missions and schedule differences simply got in the way. And after the few instances Artemis spoke of where the redhead had put the suit back on, Wally had gotten stubborn as to why he wasn’t Kid Flash anymore. More insistent that he wasn’t a hero.

 

“ _No_ , Dick. He worried. A lot.” A blonde eyebrow raised in the air. “I found him sitting in the souvenir room of the cave, staring at everything we’d collected over the years. Giving up being Kid Flash was the biggest decision he had to make. And he felt like he’d let you _down._ ”

 

“That’s…” Wally had made it sound easy back then. Put the goggles and the running boots away and start a different life. Staring down at his drink, Dick swallowed hard.

 

“Wally puts the suit on now like he can turn it on and off. It’s not that he hates running.” Artemis’s hand curled against his firmly and she smiled sympathetically. “Look. You and I probably know the guy better than anyone. He’s been my boyfriend for five years, and four and eleven months of those, he’s been an idiot. It’ll be a while before he and I can be in the same room again. But you’ve got know that _I_ don’t blame you for our breakup and I’m sure if Wally has his head out of his ass, he’s not blaming you for it either.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem.” Artemis’s eyebrow twitched and her look hardened, lips firmly put together. She studied him carefully, dark brown eyes scrutinizing every bit of the younger man. “If…you want something more than that, Dick, I won’t be angry with you.”

 

Pause. Dick met her eyes, blue orbs blinking.

 

“Seriously.” If even possible, the archer in front of him—one of his closest and dearest friends, squeezed his hand tighter. “Okay?”

 

 _Did she just…_? The team leader’s mind went blank and his jaw slackened. He looked down to his menu, mind spinning and suddenly lost the ability to read. “Oh.”

 

Just then, their waitress rolled by and apologized for such a long wait. She held out her notepad and asked them what they’d like to eat.

 

**xxx**

Later that night, Dick walked his blonde best friend back to her mother’s apartment. She’d been right to say getting around Gotham was hard—by walking, by bus or by subway. Their excuse for doing so was to enjoy each other’s company. Dick loved Artemis like a sister, so catching up with her had been easy. Almost easier than with Wally—which was a fact that he didn’t mention. They trekked carefully around the subject of their ex-resident speedster, since what Artemis had told him about Wally rubbed him the wrong way. What she implied in the diner left him too flustered to bring the subject up again.

 

Instead, they focused on what Artemis planned on doing once she graduated college. (She was still going to Stanford, the blonde explained, but her and Wally’s schedules had been so different anyway that it was unlikely they would see each other.) Once school was done and over with, Artemis planned on moving back to Gotham City, where she would work as a counselor for troubled teens in a rehabilitation center. She had a minor in nursing and physical therapy (for _very_ troubled teens) and planned on “whipping brats into shape;” making sure they didn’t end up on a bad road ahead of them.

 

There was a glow in her eyes from the way she talked about it that mimicked her enthusiasm back on the field. Once Artemis confessed her interest, Dick smiled and gave his seal of approval. She kissed him on the cheek, punched him in the arm, threatened to do it again if he blamed himself ‘one more time’ about Wally and her breakup, and left to meet her mother.

 

Dick laughed, promising that he would ease up on himself before walking the streets back to the zeta-beam port. He debated dropping by the mansion, knowing Alfred would feel obliged to make him milk and cookies like a doting grandfather, but decided against it.

 

Literally right before he entered the phone booth, Wally texted him. **‘Wanna play basketball?’**

Blue eyes inspected the message for a whole minute before he hit the _Call_ button.

 

_“Hello?”_

“It’s five in the morning.” Dick arched an eyebrow.

 

 _“It’s only two over here. On a Friday._ ” In the background, he could hear a ball bouncing and—a crash, a curse, and Brucely crying for cover in the background. Dick stifled a laughter. _“C’mon! I’m bored, you never sleep, and I have a score to settle._ ”

 

“You mean the one where I handed your ass to you five games in a row?” Like, when he was fifteen?

 

 _“Yeah. That one. Call it a New Year’s resolution._ ”

 

“It’s October.”

 

_“Dude—you gonna come over or what?”_

 

Rolling his eyes, Dick checked the clock on his phone. He probably wasn’t going to get any sleep anyway. Heaving a heavy sigh, he entered the phone booth and the coordinates. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

Thusly as promised ten minutes later, Dick found himself walking the streets of Palo Alto to meet his best friend. Wally was seated at the top of his staircase, a grin spread across his lips and the ball tucked under his hands. The redhead stood to his feet and dangled over the railing.

 

“ _Slowest Boy Wonder Alive,”_ he declared.

 

“Sorry not all of us have super speed,” Dick retorted. “Or in your case, patience.”

 

“Yeah,” a smile spread across Wally’s face—strange, without any real emotion. He hopped down the steps three at a time with Brucely lagging after him and landed at his feet right next to the teen. “Too bad not all of us have it.”

 

Hm. Dick crossed his arms and scrutinized his best friend. Wally had dressed up in a pair of basket ball shorts, with bright red-and-yellow Adidas and a sweatshirt for the night. He looked as eager as a little kid, which did nothing more than make mirth tingle behind Dick’s lips.

 

“Sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you all week,” Wally said, interrupting his thoughts. His eagerness melted easily into guilt, red eyebrows pinching together. He scratched his head, running a hand through red hair and grimaced. “It’s been…crazy. Trying to figure out this living situation. Plus Bart’s been over just about every day. The Fam’s worried.”

 

“That’s what you told me,” Dick pointed out. But it was nicer to hear from the redhead’s mouth than over text message. Relief swelled in his chest.

 

“Yeah. But.” Wally shrugged. He rocked between his feet before throwing the ball in Dick’s direction. The old Boy Wonder caught it without flinching, and was met with a shy smile. “We have a good thing going on. I’ve kinda been wanting to see you all week.”

 

Oh. Dick blinked in surprise and looked his best friend over, stunned.

 

“What’s the matter?” Wally took very little time to recover and find a jibe. He laughed softly and pivoted on his feet to change sides on the acrobat.

 

“Nothing,” Dick said immediately, and he threw the ball back in the redhead’s direction. There was a soft _‘oof_ ’, but overall, the guy only grinned. Dick’s lips contorted matter-of-factly and he crossed his arms. “You just don’t write, you don’t call. I was beginning to think I was a one night stand.”

 

“ _‘One Night Stand_ ’? Criminy.” Wally laughed so hard that he snorted, then jabbed his best friend in the arm. “You must have been _bad_ , if I didn’t bother to call you back.”

 

“I could say the same for you, _Fastest Teen Alive._ ”

 

“Hey!”

 

 _“Hahaha._ ” Dick trembled with hilarity, arms tight around his stomach. His shoulders shook as he crooned and he gestured to the hoop that had been installed over Wally’s garage. “Same wager as last time?”

 

“Loser gives the other one a blowjob?”

 

“Was that _really_ it?” Dick choked on another chortle as the speedster in front of him whistled good-naturedly.

 

Wally shrugged and bounced the ball in his hand. “Always said that to freak Arty out, remember? Then substituted with, _‘Loser carries the other around the cave for a week._ ’”

 

Right. “You always lost.”

 

“I did no—”

 

Dick swiped the ball out of the old speedster’s hand and snickered under his breath at the immediate shout of protest. He ran the length of the small driveway with a naughty grin at his face and dribbled the ball as he did so. He felt Wally press against him from behind, arms wide to block his shot. “Rules?”

 

“Three pointers if you shoot behind the trash can,” Wally informed. “Two if anything closer.”

 

“Good to know.” And then he shot the ball, landing it perfectly in the basketball net with a _SWOOP!_ Brucely barked happily from the sidelines, tail wagging enthusiastically as he did so. Turning around, Dick split into a smug grin next to Wally’s disapproving pout. He made a gesture to the hoop. “Two-pointer.”

 

“Very funny.” Wally’s eyes narrowed and he smirked. “I’ll two-pointer _you._ ”

 

“That doesn’t even make _sense_ , Kid—” The word ‘ _Idiot’_ hung on Dick’s tongue, but the moment he annunciated, he had to stop himself. Dick’s face straightened and he looked to Wally to see what reaction it gauged.

 

To his surprise, the old speedster’s lip quirked wider—maybe satisfied. They were falling into old habits. He picked up the ball as it rolled to his feet and threw it through the hoop. “Two-pointer, Bird Boy.”

 

Heh. “ _Game on._ ”

 

The last time they’d had a basketball game, Dick was at least half the size he was now. Back then he’d used his height swiftly—ducking and bobbing. Just because Kid Flash was fast on his feet back then didn’t mean he was graceful—which resulted in a lot of Wally landing on his face and the first Robin jumping on his fallen friend’s ass to slam dunk. In present time, he was able to shift his weight and confuse the speedster. There were benefits to having a competitor that had been off the roster for three years.

 

Well—some. Wally leaped high enough to block off Dick’s jump shots. His arms were long, making landing three-pointers easy. (He’d also stopped circling Dick, knowing that it would only result in the teen tripping him and stealing the ball for himself.) Halfway through the game, Brucely got excited and joined them on the driveway. Dick found himself playing two against one after Wally threw the ball and his loyal dog nosed it to the hoop.

 

The teen had just stolen the ball and feigned left before shooting to the right. He heard Wally cry out in protest—then toppled over onto Dick. Dick fell flat on his face on the driveway with a, “ _Whoa!_ ” and felt Wally collapse on top of him.

 

Ow.

 

A groan left the teen’s lips, and he opened is eyes as he felt Brucely lick his face. The dog yipped in amusement, tail wagging as Dick looked at him. The redhead in question had his arms on either side of the brunet, head fused with his back. “Seriously, Wally?”

 

“Oops,” was Wally’s reply. Then—“Ow—ow, ow, _ow—_ I think your _back_ gave me a concussion.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Dick turned over beneath his friend and looked up drolly. What he saw was a hand curled against the redhead’s temples, and the other one molded around Wally’s crooked nose. “You can’t keep on your own two feet for longer than a few seconds, can you?”

 

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” Wally groaned again and scowled with exaggeration. _Jeez. Drama Queen._ “What the hell do you _pack_ in that back, a brick wall?”

 

“Like you haven’t run into enough of those.” Hearing the old speedster snort under his hands, the teen couldn’t help a laugh. He pushed Wally back and brushed the pair of hands away from his best friend’s face. “Here. Let me see it.”

 

“Only if you apologize.”

 

“For _what_?”

 

Wally moved his shoulders in substitute for his arms. His eyes widened comically and eyebrows wriggled on his face in upset. “For the brick wall comment.”

 

“I’m going to hurt you.”

 

The redhead went cross-eyed and gestured to his nose.

 

“Fine. Whatever.” Dick crooned softly under his breath and cupped Wally’s face between his fingers. He pressed his lips together carefully, eyes scrutinizing his best friend’s complexion. 

 

 Freckles. They’d faded over the years, but as close as he was, Dick could see the faintest freckles beneath his best friend’s eyes and dancing on the bridge of Wally’s crooked nose. Beneath the streetlights, Wally’s eyes were dark, but still visibly— _amazingly_ green. With…little specks in them. Eye freckles. The pigment in Wally’s hair had dulled slightly over the years, but he still stuck out easily. (It was a given, really—considering the ketchup red and mustard yellow suit he’d worn for so many years.)

 

For a moment, Dick actually forgot what he was doing. Sweat from earlier was damp on his finger pads, glistening from a rough game. He was sure he looked no better, with bangs that were matted to his forehead and a bead of sweat he could feel trickling down his face. Biting the inside of his mouth, he pushed the red locks out of his old speedster’s face and inspected the so-called ‘bump.’ Which, as he speculated, wasn’t there.

 

“You’re such a baby.” Dick slapped Wally on both cheeks.

 

 _“Ow!_ ”

 

“Point.” Again, he could only roll his eyes as Wally whined before doubling over in laughter. He pushed off, staring at the man who sat parallel to him patiently as he waited for the redhead to stop. Wally’s voice cracked higher—and he fell with his back to the ground with a content sigh. The ex-speedster held out his arms and legs like he was making a snow angel. “Any reason why you’re in a better mood than the hyenas from the Lion King?”

 

Those green orbs looked to him, bottom lip twitching in good nature. Wally’s hands curled behind his head and for some reason, he beamed with a smile. One that Dick hadn’t seen on his face since they were kids. “Dunno. Bart came over, we hung out a bit. Then I kicked him out, of course. And then I was like— _I wanna play basketball._ I figured you’d be the only one _insane_ enough to still be awake at this time of night.”

 

“I’m flattered.” Really. Though Wally’s reasoning seemed odd, given how heartbroken he’d been the week before. This type of optimism was surprising, even for Wally.

 

The said man looked back to him, eyes narrowed and brow curled. His lips formed a smirk and he nudged Dick with his league. “So what _were_ you doing up at five in the morning? Hot case?”

 

“Hung out with Artemis.”

 

Instantly the smile evaporated from the redhead’s demeanor. Wally blinked, pushing off the ground into a sitting position and eyed him in surprise. His lips tightened into a frown, hands curling at the ground. “Is she doing well?”

 

“She loves it.” Dick didn’t flinch. He reached over to pat Brucely on the head, who followed by resting across his lap. “She missed being a hero again and now she’s got it.”

 

“Oh.” Wally’s hands settled between his knees like a child. He fell silent, and for some reason it felt as though everything that happened prior to that moment hadn’t existed. All the enthusiasm disappeared from Wally’s eyes and his smile faded. “That’s good.”

 

He slunk back to depression. Dick blinked, watching the scene unfold before him and felt his chest compress. He bit the inside of his mouth and looked away toward the empty streets. It had to be at least four in the morning now, after two hours of harassing each other while they played basketball. He…wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t prepared for Wally to fall into a slump again.

 

“I don’t blame you,” Wally said finally—the first thing, before returning to his ministrations. He raised a hand and waved it gently. “I’m over that.”

 

“She told me not to put myself in the middle of it.”

 

“Yeah.” Shrug. The redhead closed his eyes and sighed—halfheartedly as enthusiastic as he’d been throughout their game and gloomy.  “She’s like that.”

 

Dick frowned, taking in the reaction carefully. He watched the rise and fall of Wally’s chest as the redhead quietly dwelled in his own mind, and the grimness that overshadowed Wally’s orbs. Scraping fingers against the ground, he crawled over to the other man. “Do you…need to talk about it?”

 

Wally pressed his forearm to his eyes and shook his head. He was without a word in the following moments, lips tight and dried together. Dick’s fingers tapped the ground nervously.

 

“ _Wally._ ”

 

“It’s not about her.”

 

Dick stared at his best friend cautiously.

 

“I didn’t want to be Wally West for one night.” The other man halted.  He peered from his arm, throat clogged and unclear, and looked straight to the old Boy Wonder. His gaze was mournful—frustrated, even. Sighing brusquely, he looked up, and a bit of hope shined beneath his frustration. “Stay with me?”

 

Reaching out, he tapped a nimble hand on Dick’s arm, and his eyebrows meshed together in a quiet plea.

 

The dark-haired teen stared down at the knuckles that brushed his wrist. They were cold to the touch, with flesh that was in the moonlight. Turning his head back, he scrutinized Wally’s face once more. Beneath all of the enthusiasm was the sadness of heartbreak. The adrenaline from earlier burned away eons ago into fear.

 

 “Always.” Dick pushed to his feet and pulled Wally off the ground with him.

 

The redhead’s grip on his hand was numb—almost lifeless, even. Green eyes stared carefully at their interlaced hands, gaze flat and not a smile to his face. Again, Wally was quiet with whatever thought appeared to be in his head. Dick moved to unlock their fingers, feeling his chest tighten and heart ache, but Wally beat him to it.

 

Backing away, Wally started the path up the stairs and offered a smile in his direction. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

 

He picked up the ball and walked into his house. Slowly. 


	4. Boy's Night, Boy's Kisses, Boys Hug, Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Quiet, Kid Stupid.” Robin slapped a hand over the redhead’s mouth, gaze firm on the group of guys in the middle of the room. He’d changed out his sunglasses in favor of a pair of neon pink shutter shades. His usual black hair had been “bleached” blonde for the occasion, adorned with Hello Kitty clips, and usual civvies was replaced with a form-fitting black muscle shirt and neon blue pants. On his arm in black sharpie were three words: ‘Love Me Tender.’

_The mission meant taking down a drug dealer. Someone had gotten a hold of the Joker’s Laugh Gas somewhere in Gotham City and meddled with the properties to turn it into a laugh hallucinogen. Its victims experienced an intense spout of laughter as they hallucinated, ranging from a minute to a few hours. Longer exposure meant death through asphyxiation—and those who survived exposure experienced hallucinations until they were diagnosed as clinically insane. However, there were suspicions that in one short month, people had gathered and formed a culture out of it—Joker Juice. Their job: find it, find the guy who changed the properties, and destroy all the contents._

_First job: Finding it. Which led them to the club they were in now._

****

_The music thrummed loudly, causing seats to tremble and the flesh on Kid Flash’s arms to pulse. Red lights, yellow lights, purple lights, blue lights, green lights—every color of the rainbow and their lovechild orbited the dance floor and illuminated the several teenagers who seemed oblivious. All boys. The ‘bartender’ who’d given a bewildered Kaldur his glass of water left a hand lingering longer than needed. Not just long in speedster terms, either—just, long. A pair of teens no older than Rob had passed by and given a confused Conner sex eyes._

_On the neon green whiteboard right above the bartender’s head had Guy’s Night Out! in neatly written scripture._

_Wait a minute._

_‘Are we in a gay club?!’ Wally shouted loudly through the telepathic link. Next to him, his three (male) team members winced from the unexpected ( **loud** ) intrusion. In the back of his head, he could hear Artemis mind-cackling—cutting off and coming back as she probably did so aloud. Kid Flash twitched, letting the situation set in. “Oh my god—mmmMMPHH!”_

_“Quiet, Kid Stupid.” Robin slapped a hand over the redhead’s mouth, gaze firm on the group of guys in the middle of the room. He’d changed out his sunglasses in favor of a pair of neon pink shutter shades. His usual black hair had been “bleached” blonde for the occasion, adorned with Hello Kitty clips, and usual civvies was replaced with a form-fitting black muscle shirt and neon blue pants. On his arm in black sharpie were three words: ‘Love Me Tender.’_

_When Artemis had clipped the fake earring on him, Wally hadn’t thought twice about it before Rob dragged him off with the rest of the guys. She looked at him with amusement, but now he knew **why**. And he was going to kill her. _

_Before Kid Flash had the chance to send violent thoughts her way, Aqualad placed a hand on his shoulder, a stern look visible across his face. ‘We are here to find the hoodlum who is distributing Joker Juice to adolescents. We **cannot** compromise our position. We’ll go forward with the plan.’ _

_‘Plan?’ The redhead rebuffed. Even in his head, his voice had cracked in disbelief. ‘Where was I for this plan?’_

_“Eating a banana,” Robin said aloud. He latched onto the speedster’s arm and dragged him away, the amusement visible in his voice. “We decided you were already doing your part of the job. Hahaha…”_

_Ugh. Wally’s head spun, watching as Rob moved easily in his ugly fashion statement for pants. And the blond hair. And the hot pinkglasses. This was looking way too natural for him and—“Hey. **You** were the one who gave me the banana!” _

_“You just make it too easy.” An evil little grin spread across his face. Oh **my** god. Before he had the chance to rebuttal, Robin yanked him to the center of the dance floor and strapped one of Wally’s hands firmly to his back. “Now shut up and dance with me before you blow our cover.” _

_“Dude—”_

_‘Mind Link.’_

_‘—you and your ass tight neon pants are so in trouble when we’re done with this!’ From the far distance, Wally could hear his girlfriend break into hysterics again, while Rob only smirked. Yeah. Totally going down after all of this. The threat may have sounded better had not Rob began swinging his hips to the DJ’s Top 40. He suppressed the irritation bubbling in his head and reverted back to mission mode. Despite the momentary lapse of shock (and mental notes to wring his best friend’s neck over this) they still had something at hand to accomplish._

_Which…involved a lot of dirty dance moves that Wally wasn’t quite sure Dick actually knew. He stifled a laugh—and a gawk, as the fourteen-year-old danced with him. Robin gripped his shoulder tightly and brought him close._

_‘In position,’ the Boy Wonder announced._

_‘They are watching you,’ Kaldur confirmed. Wherever he was. Being on the dance floor blinded the pair from their team._

_Conner’s growl of discontent registered next. ‘They’re near. I can smell them.’_

_‘For what?’ Wally asked incredulously. He eeped when he felt a hand squeeze his ass—and at the moment, it wasn’t even Rob’s. He felt the said teen’s hands grip both sides of him tightly, with an uncharacteristic look of exasperation that glowed blatantly under neon lights._

_‘You’re too tense,’ Robin scolded. ‘You’re going to blow our cover if you don’t **loosen up.’**_

****

_‘Okay, okay.’ Wally sucked in a breath and relaxed his shoulders. He stood up straighter as he felt Robin’s hands roam his back in a way he knew particularly well. Even when the redhead was ready to melt into cataclysmic hysterics, Rob was trying to calm him down. Kid Flash danced as a remix of What Makes You Beautiful stirred on the stereo. There were way too many people singing to this. And who knew the lyrics. Wally himself included. (Not singing—just. Humming under his breath and slowly having a breakdown.)_

_Robin clung to the front of the redhead’s shirt, wiggling his hips and doing footwork that made the redhead dizzy. Even under the musk of sweat and deafening laughter, he could pick up the scent of the Boy Wonder’s body spray—or, lotion, or…well, his skin was smooth…_

_‘Sweet Pea.’_

_Robin cocked his head, looking up into the taller teen’s eyes with an eyebrow arched high in the air. He stopped dancing for a moment, blue eyes narrowed beneath the thin disguise and lip curled in amusement. ‘What?’_

_A flush traveled up from the back of Wally’s neck, blending with the purple light on his cheeks. He cursed Artemis for ever bringing him to Bath & Bodyworks. ‘Uh…the lotion you’re wearing.’ God, what he would have given to wipe the shit-eating grin off of Dick’s face. He could hear their blonde archer getting into another fit of laughter yet again—and this time, both Miss M and Zatanna were contributing. _

_‘It’s Zee’s.’ Okay, wow. Something funny must have been in that comment, because Rob was totally giving him an even shittier-eating grin. If…that was a real word. Robin cupped his face, and Kid Flash suddenly became very aware that there wasn’t any space between them._

_Green eyes widened in shock, a disgruntled sound shaking from the back of the teen’s throat as Robin brought him down to his height. Perfectly manicured, rainbow fingernails stretched his face out until Wally felt like a wad of silly putty. “Uh?”_

_Robin’s unfazed party-smile remained across his face. ‘Keep. Calm.’_

_Uh. ‘Wh—?’ Rob moved to kiss him. Wally forced back a sound of surprise as he felt the said teen (violently) smash one of his TOMs onto his foot, and fell back by placing his hands awkwardly on Rob’s hips. Okay, weird. ‘Pretend he’s Artemis, pretend he’s Artemis— **wow** Artemis can’t do that—’  He heard a guffaw, which was quickly forgotten when Dick moved one of Wally’s hands to his ass. Which was almost forgotten when Dick forced his tongue into the speedster’s mouth. _

_Jesus Christ._

_‘Don’t panic.’ Dick repeated again, which was strangely strategic given what they were doing. His voice was strict, steering the both of them. Rob was still rolling his hips to the music, fingers padding the sweaty flesh on the back of his neck in effort to soothe him, so Wally had little say in the matter._

_He kissed back, knowing that if he wimped out that the team (and Batman) would have his head for compromising the mission. Robin’s lips were surprisingly soft beneath his, with the scent of Sweet Pea swelling in Wally’s nostrils. As a courtesy, Dick’s kissing techniques had mellowed out—probably for his sake, so Wally felt more comfortable. His own fingers rubbed against the contour of the boy’s cheek, bare flesh touching smooth skin._

_There was something comfortable about this._

_They hadn’t had time to hang out with each other since Artemis and he, and Dick and Zatanna had started dating. Maybe that was why Rob seemed so enthusiastic about the mission. Wally, too, in the faintest corner of his mind remembering something about Kaldur pairing them together. What he wouldn’t give to hang with his best friend for a day, he thought._

_Er, well. Not like this. He hadn’t thought about this in a while. Hadn’t had to._

_Yet he removed his fingers from where they groped Robin’s ass, carefully thumbing either side of the Boy Wonder’s abdomen. All of those nights before the mission, before Artemis—hell, before the team sunk back in his mind, with the forgotten thought, **What I wouldn’t give to kiss Dick Grayson,** entered his mind and he took it with its usual grain of salt. When they parted, Wally pressed his forehead into the crook of Robin’s neck to hide his face and felt hands comb through his hair. Dick’s pulse against his skin and the soft breathy snickers against his ear. _

_The song ended promptly after, blending into the Cupid Shuffle. Robin’s hands coiled into his shirt, forcing Wally to look up to the boyish, hesitant smirk across his lips. Break of character, with that freaky BatBoy showing through._

_‘We are so not doing that again,’ Wally declared. That only made Rob’s grin widen. Totally appropriate with the Hello Kitty clips._

_‘Doing…what again?’ He could hear Megan ask in confusion. Right—telepathy, not exactly television._

_‘They’re coming,’ Kaldur announced. Wally almost forgot they were there._

_Robin turned his head, provoking Wally to do the same. He moved a hand to the teen’s waist, hand curling tightly at the Boy Wonder side as ‘they’ finally came. Two boys; one that looked about Rob’s age and another that had to be a college. The younger boy wore wayferer glasses, with hair that had been obviously dyed a hardy shade of red and rainbow colored zany bands that climbed up his forearms that matched his bright suspenders. The elder teen looked classier, wearing a slick shirt and a pair of pants that looked like they belonged in Rob’s closet right next to his skinny jeans._

_“Quite a show you put on out there,” said the older teen. His gaze narrowed to Rob, making Wally grip his friend tighter. “You do that just for him?”_

_Suddenly the younger teen giggled—fits of laughter bubbling from him that made Robin actually fall into his grip, and the hair on Wally’s neck stand erect. The speedster looked toward Rainbow Dude’s direction and bit the inside of his mouth._

_“Depends on my inventory,” Rob responded, and Wally choked—hearing his best friend’s under-cover Brooklyn accent in full swing. The teen arched an eyebrow—like the way the guy would do with Wally, in a, ‘I’m about to screw you over’ kind of way, without the ‘you-over’ attached to it. “Care to check it out?”_

_Whoa. Wait a minute. “Robin—” He froze. So did College Dude._

_“Your name’s Robin?” That was not a nice smile on his face._

_Yet there was Rob, who looked numb to what Kid Flash had just called him. Instead, the Boy Wonder shrugged his shoulders like, ‘What the hell, I’ll go with it’ and strutted toward College Dude. His fingers trailed across College Dude’s wide chest and shirked him away. “Let’s see what else you can find about me.”_

_It left Wally with the giggling Rainbow Guy. He watched in complete stun as Robin put in the effort to drag College Dude into the furthest corner of the dance floor. ‘What the hell?’ he demanded, and got no answer. Through the link, he could hear the confused questions from all three girls who had been instructed to stakeout outside the club, and Kaldur’s effort to calm him. Not. Astrous._

_Plus, now Rainbow Guy was poking him. Wally internally-loudly pointed out how he hated being pok—“Is that shirt right?”_

_“Bwuh?” Wally looked down to said Rainbow Guy—who let out a cackle that made his ears bleed._

_“’Ten out of Ten. Would Bang’…pfftthahahahaaa…” Rainbow Guy stretched out Wally’s shirt, pointing to the words clearly. His head swayed back and forth, and he wobbled onto an impatient Wally._

_“Oh-kay. Someone’s definitely high.” Wally caught the boy before Rainbow Guy could hit the ground and steadied both of them, still clearly upset. From the corner of his eyes he saw Robin push the hair and sweat out of his face, tossing his head back like he was on one of those sexy-lady shampoo commercials. College Creep’s large hands were in places that they shouldn’t have been, dragging Robin up against him and off the ground._

_Then, Robin leaned over and murmured something in the man’s ear. Whatever it was, College Guy lit up with content. Amongst the crowd they stopped dancing and one of College Guy’s large hands dragged Rob out of the room and into the hall._

_“Where are they going?” Wally turned back to Rainbow Druggie in his hands—who decided licking Wally’s freckles was a must. “Ohmy—”_

_“Abel only shows the people he likes the good stuff. Guys—girls. Hahahahahahaa….” Rainbow Druggie latched onto the speedster, fingers hooking in Wally’s belt loops and thumbs digging between the hem of Wally’s jeans and his boxers. He suddenly looked less high and more direct. “Abel likes me a lot.”_

_Uh. “Yeah, you’re not my type.”_

_‘Kid.’ From the corner of his eye, he saw Conner and Kaldur walk to the hallway that Robin had gone down only seconds ago.  ‘Coming?’_

_‘Thank **god,** yes.’ Shoving Rainbow Druggie off of him, Wally ushered toward his teammates without a second thought. He pushed through the crowd of people and met both boys. Kaldur looked nervous, Conner had a painfully annoying look on his face—neither too happy about the situation. _

_‘Robin just turned vocal on,’ Artemis informed. ‘We can hear everything on the Bioship.’_

_‘Excellent.’ Kaldur nodded his head to both boys, eyes narrowing. ‘Time to follow.’ The hallway was empty compared to the room before that. There was a stairway that led them up to a different floor, where they heard an affirmative click of a door._

_Kaldur, Conner, and Wally all looked to each other. They snuck up the staircase, passing two drunk couples that happened to smuggle beer into the under-18 club and another when Wally ushered both boys away from when he realized boy A was on his knees for boy B._

_Three different doors: two rooms next to each other, and a double-doored room with the King of Hearts carved into the wood. Superboy pointed to it and confirmed he heard voices._

_Once Wally and he both crouched over, Kaldur placed a hand on their shoulders, eying both boys cautiously. ‘Restrain yourselves.’_

_Nodding, the redhead swallowed down the sick feeling broiling in his stomach._

**_“Saw the way your friend looked,”_ ** _Robin’s voice fluttered through the comm.-link. **“I want that.”**_

****

**_“Fun, isn’t it?”_ ** _College dude murmured. A cool feeling shot through Wally’s back. He clutched the floor to restrain himself and bit the inside of his mouth. There were sounds—breathy ones, too close to the mic, and Wally could feel those fingers on his best friend’s skin._

_He bit on a knuckle. Superboy grabbed him by the shoulder, blue eyes looking to blue. ‘No,’ Conner glared, and Wally forced himself to nod._

**_“You’re lucky, little bird—”_ ** _Little—Kaldur’s glare stopped Wally from bubbling with anger, though it was obvious even Aqualad and Superboy were hearing the situation in the wrong way. **“Not very many people get to check out our inventory.”**_

****

**_“And if I see something I like?”_ **

****

**_“There’s an entry fee.”_ ** _There were kissing sounds. And Rob was just **letting** it happen. _

**_“How much?”_ ** _Robin’s voice fluttered through, soft and crooning._

_A snapping sound. More people, from the looks of it. **“A show. How about you let us see what’s under all of those feathers? Baby Bird?”**_

****

_‘Robin,’ Zatanna’s voice suddenly burst through all of them—and made Wally’s brain freeze. The distress and discomfort could be heard clearly in her voice. Wally couldn’t even imagine what the girls looked like in the ship right now. ‘This would be a good time to come clean.’_

_Silence._

_‘Robin,’ Wally inputted. ‘Dude. Stop—now.’ Still, not an answer. Wally’s heart throbbed in his chest and he growled beneath his breath._

**_“Only if you let me see the other assets I’m getting first.”_ **

**_“Sorry, babe. Doesn’t work that way.”_ **

****

**_“Sorry. I didn’t come to screw around.”_ **

****

**_“Hahahahahaha…”_ **

****

**_“Uh—”_ **

****

**_“One way or another, you’re_ fucked _, Baby Bird.”_**

****

_Which was where Wally was going to snap and burst through the door to kick College Dude’s ass—had not Superboy did it first, smashing the wooden entry with a fist and blowing all their covers._

 

**xxx**

Wally woke up drenched in his own sweat. He could feel the thick layer of permeation glossing wet hair to his forehead and staining every fold of his body. Choking on his own breath, green eyes looked candidly to the dark ceiling above him and he trembled against the bed.

 

The feeling from his fingers to his elbow was gone.

 

Salty beads trickled into his mouth, pooling on the small indent above his lip. His limbs shook, lips tight together, and a sharp knife dug into his throat every time he suck in a breath. Pain. Focused on his shoulder joint and screaming in his ears. He stifled a sob and focused. _Focused_ , trying to move separate digits of his fingers. Each rolled like needle points pushing against them, wrist almost non-existent.

 

He couldn’t count how long it took him, until he could finally curl both hands into the blanket beneath his body. Green eyes squeezed shut like a wall, denying the tears as they accumulated beneath red eyelashes.

 

It took an eternity before he could finally breathe again. An icy cold towel pressed against his forehead, wiping away the misery of the hours gone by since he’d escaped consciousness. The heavy steps of feet creaked on the wooden floor, until Wally could feel a pile of clothes being set right next to him, and a bottle of water that was manually placed into his dead hand.

 

He pushed off the bed, leaving a musky imprint in the duvet as he did so, and stared at the small speedster that stood parallel to him. Like a scared child unsure of what to do. Swallowing the dryness in his throat hard, Wally unscrewed the bottle and poured all of the contents in his mouth.

 

Bart was quiet through all of it.

 

When the redhead was finally done, the young speedster reached out, uncurled the bottle from Wally’s hand, and gripped it tight between his fingers.

 

“How long?” Wally’s voice sounded strange, even to him.

 

Brown eyebrows furrowed together and Bart’s entire body shook. “You were unconscious for six hours.”

 

“Did you leave the house?”

 

“No.” Bart’s lip quivered at the other side of him, the plastic bottle shriveling in his hand. Hair dangled as he shook his head, and small hands palmed his own chest, to still its beating. “I-I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up.” His eyes glistened with wet tears.

 

 _Sigh._ “C’mere, kid.” Holding out his hand tentatively, Wally rotated it carefully, and it moved with very little feeling. Like one of Red Arrow’s polyurethane foam had exploded in his joints.

 

Before he could protest, Bart crawled onto his lap and buried his face in Wally’s shirt. Hands clawed into the back of him, refusing to let go in case Wally escaped again. The kid didn’t cry. Wally learned quickly that Bart had grown numb with the world he’d been raised in. All he wanted was a physical embrace from a warm, living being that let him know there was someone else out there in the world.

 

“You smell bad,” Bart whispered.

 

Wally admonished him. “I’ve been lying in a bed for _six hours_ , Bee. The least you could have done was turn the AC on.”

 

“Didn’t leave your side.” Though Bart tittered sadly, his soft laughs bubbling painfully in the redhead’s ear. The brunet pulled back, large green eyes staring at his cousin’s. He slid off Wally’s lap, exited the room, and proceeded to Febreeze the entire house. Wally snorted—he couldn’t have smelled _that_ bad.

 

Brucely entered the room, hopped onto the bed, and rested his head on Wally’s knee. He whimpered softly and licked Wally’s hand; demanding to be petted. A breathy chuckle left Wally’s lips. Once Bart was done he reappeared, Febreeze bottle in hand, and looked down gruesomely in Wally’s direction with a somber demeanor.

 

The elder (ex)speedster pretended not to notice. “Six hours isn’t that bad.”

 

“‘Isn’t bad’?” Bart’s voice raised, uncharacteristically tight. He chucked the Febreeze bottle elsewhere and threw his arms up. “That’s three hours longer than _yesterday_ , Walls.” Silence. Wally didn’t have the energy to talk back. As a result, Bart sucked in a breath and began speed-pacing up and down the room. “We need to backtrack. Throwback! Maybe there’s something in your past—maybe a _villain_ or something—”

 

“That what, Bart? Went Mister Bad Touch on me as a kid?” Wally cut him off.

 

The teen looked back, eyebrows knitted together. An uncharacteristic scowl formed across his face, hands at his side. “I’m just _saying_.” His voice dissipated, disturbingly quiet in the elder cousin’s ears. “Maybe something hit you with a ray. And that’s why things are messed up.”

 

“Let’s count how many rays I’ve been hit with over the years, kid.” Eyes narrowing, Wally shook his head in an affirmative _‘no.’_ “Flash had me checked out at STAR Labs every time something like that happened, in case radiation came back to bite me in the ass. Security only got tighter when the team formed.”

 

“Then—”

 

“Then _what_ , Bart?” An exasperated sigh left Wally’s lips and he matched Bart’s irritated scowl. He pinched the bridge of his nose and raised his head, _tired._ “We’ve been at this for _ten days._ The calculations, the tests, the theories—none of them have _worked_ so far. Half of them you’re too young to even _understand._ ”

 

That struck a nerve. Bart’s jaw tightened. “I built a time machine, didn’t I?”

 

“One that couldn’t get you back, kid.”

 

They stood at a standstill, eyes never leaving the other. Bart’s stature had grown tense out of irritation and Wally’s hand stayed tight in Brucely’s fur. He didn’t realize the dog was nibbling on his bad hand until he looked down.

 

Gaze shriveling, Wally shut his eyes. No. No fighting. Looking back up, he opened his arms wide and gestured half-heartedly for Bart to come closer. The speedster nodded softly and crawled onto the bed right next to his cousin. They hugged tightly, soft apologies muttered in the air.

 

“You really do smell,” Bart murmured again.

 

A petty laugh left Wally’s lips. “I’ll shower it off.”

 

“Okay.” The brunet reached over his cousin’s lap and hugged the crown of Brucely’s head. Looking up, the dog welcomed the sudden sign of affection with a pleasant lick or two.

 

Wally watched, half a tired smile forming as the brunet made the attempt to cheer himself up. He watched in silence, as Bart felt the need to praise the dumb dog for doing absolutely nothing until the usual cheerful smile graced Bart’s lips again.

 

“I need a break,” Wally announced. Bart looked to him curiously. “A few days. And then we’ll try it again.”

 

“Okay.” Nodding, the brunet stood to his feet. “Is Nightwing coming over later then?”

 

“If I can get him.” The comment was met with a dismissive shrug, so Wally rolled his eyes. “So scram.”

 

The brunet beamed angelically and nodded. “Scramming.”

 

Despite what Bart promised, the teen stayed until the very last moment. He rushed around the house, cleaning everything in sight in order to make sure nothing was out of place. Wally called his best friend and voiced his request. He was promptly pressed to shower (“Seriously—you’ve got like this lingering _stench—”_ “I swear, I will hurt you.”) and clean up before Dick arrived.

 

Once the redhead was finally clean and dressed in the clothes that Bart had lain out for him, he was met with the sight of his mother’s chicken pot pie sitting neatly at the dining table. Wally’s eyes narrowed quaintly. The kid probably brought it over while he was in the bathroom.

 

Speaking of the kid, Bart wiped his hands on the old cooking apron Wally’d forgotten to throw out. One that said, _GENERAL HOTSTUFF. “_ Your hand okay?”

 

Rotating his wrist, Wally raised it for his cousin to see. “Water helped loosen it up.”

 

“It’s…just your _hand_ though, right?” Bart bit his lip and ripped the apron off his person. Looking up, his eyes narrowed with concern.

 

“Some…shooting pains in my leg, too.”

 

 _“Wall._ ”

“Only when I push it,” Wally continued before the younger speedster could jump at him. He glared at the boy, warning him before the kid said anything stupid and pushed the damp red hair out of his eyes. “It went away later. You know all of this, B. But that was the first spasm in two weeks. I shouldn’t have one for a while.”

 

Still, his cousin looked unconvinced. The redhead couldn’t help the aggravation showing on his face.

 

“I’ll be _fine_ , Bart.”

 

“Okay.” Though, Bart looked anything but happy about the situation.

 

Ten minutes later, the younger speedster answered the door.

 

“Uh…Hi, Bart.” Dick’s tone drawled monotonously, with a slight ounce of hesitation.

 

“Hiya.” _Zip._ Bart disappeared from the door and reappeared with his school backpack strapped over his arm. He shifted between his feet and looked over his shoulder with a reluctant (almost protective) smile in Wally’s direction. “That’s my cue to leave, isn’t it?”

 

“Scram.” Wally waved his hand.

 

“Bye, cuzzo! Bye Nightwing!”

 

“Bye—” _ZIP!_ “—Bart. I…take it he does that a lot?”

 

“The kid’s a showoff.” Pushing off the couch, Wally couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He didn’t miss the look of concern or the way Bart had frowned at him right before leaving. It was the nagging feeling in his chest that reminded Wally that Bart was insistent on ‘fixing him.’ No doubt the kid was annoyed when Wally declared he needed a break. _But whatever._

Dick was dressed in a charcoal v-neck, muscles fitted smoothly beneath the thin layer of cotton. His hair was tangled, probably from getting off patrol only moments ago. Wally couldn’t help but double check to make sure the teen wasn’t wearing neon blue skinny jeans.

 

“You look nice.” He crossed his arms and smirked in amusement before reaching over the coffee table for his car keys.

 

“Thanks.” Dick smirked back, mimicking the redhead’s pose with twice the amusement and tilted his head just slightly to the side. “So what are we doing tonight?”

 

Hanging out with Dick had become a constant thing in the past few days. With school, his internship, and the experiments Wally had been trying out with Bart, along with how much time Dick put forth with the team, it was amazing they were even able to do so. The past three days were spent bonding over old memories (though, Wally had quickly cut Dick off when it steered too far down into his time as Kid Flash) and tossing around the same subjects they’d been doing since they met (“Where would they keep the zipper on the Sailor Scouts uniform?” “They’d take it off with magic, dude. That’s how they got it on.” “No way! What if it’s like…make up remover?”)

 

Wally would spend the time in class and his internship, spend ample hours with his cousin after Central City Middle School let out, and spend the nights raving with his best friend. There’d only been one night, to Wally’s dismay, that the guy agreed to sleep over. Dick volunteered to crash on the couch and promised to leave promptly in the morning to complete his own errands.

 

Yet right now, Wally had Dick all to himself.

 

Biting the inside of his mouth, Wally tucked one hand in his pocket and brushed the tangled black knots out of the teen’s hair. Blue eyes stared at him thoughtfully, the amusement shining in Dick’s irises, and the redhead could only meet it with a shrug. “You wanna go clubbing?”

 

**xxx**

_Blush_ was an Under21 club that had opened up in Keystone City only six months prior to their visit. At first the name of it had been _REACH for the Stars_ ,in order to embrace the news and propaganda that had been going on at the time. Shortly after the invasion was been exposed to the public, the new club quickly went under renovations and reopened in a way to completely separate itself from controversy. Wally had mocked it over the summer one day when he visited the STAR Labs in Keystone City. By…himself. Laying low until he finally got that phone call and make sure everything ended at the summit.

 

But now, he had a friend to mock it with him. Per usual, the Top 40 and every remix plus their mother echoed through the long walls of the club and caused all of the bones in Wally’s body to tremble. It hammered a cadence in his ears and caused him to grin from ear-to-ear. The dance floor was a large platform with light-up tiles and (the only thing kept after the renovations) star-shaped spotlights that searched the crowd for happy smiles. The bar was lit up with black lights, with both bartenders wearing glow-in-the-dark drawings and writing on their arms and t-shirts.

 

College kids laughed and danced—grinding and hollering to the beat of the music.

 

It was the cheesiest thing Wally had ever seen. _He loved it._

Feet only inches away from leaping into the ocean of people, Wally didn’t register Dick touching his arm until the same teen pulled him close with a disapproving frown. Dick’s eyebrows furrowed together doubtfully. Over the music, he yelled, “You sure you want to do this?”

 

“It’s been _two weeks_ now since Artemis and I have broken up, dude.” Wally attempted to shake the grip off and turned around so his full body faced the dark-haired teen’s. “I’m _done_ feeling sorry for myself! C’mon, it’s time I move on and find a new girl, right?”

 

He attempted to move, but couldn’t. Dick’s hand was still on top of his wrist, and it hurt _so much_ that Wally couldn’t actually feel it. Instead, blue eyes flickering with party lights and dusk narrowed and Dick’s lips turned into a crooked grimace. “I gave up patrol tonight to come see you.”

 

“Yeah! And I’m flattered.” Wally tapped his heels eagerly into the ground and grinned.

 

“This is the third night that I’ve done that, Wally.”

 

“And?” Wally raised his head questionably and was met with eyebrows that were pinched together. He blocked out the voice in his head that wanted to scold him for what he was doing, and gripped Dick’s hand tight with his other hand. A smile adorned his face. “Sorry, sorry. C’mon—I’ll meet a babe, you’ll meet a babe. We’ll compare at the end of the night and then you can go back to doing your freaky bat thing, alright?”

 

Wally forced himself to keep eye contact with the teen in front of him, who looked eager to be anywhere but where Dick was standing right now. His best friend’s face twisted cautiously, and eyebrows knitted together. Dick nodded stiffly. “Oka—”

 

“C’mon!” Wally yanked the teen through the throng of hapless people. He tossed his head back joyously, letting a laugh explode out of his lips as a shitty _Jesse McCartney_ track began. Wally fell into step with each lyric and let the soggy air fill his lungs. God, it was good to finally _breathe_ again. Turning his head, he laughed.

 

His best friend looked back, a mordant smile across his face that clearly meant he wasn’t having fun. Like, totally the opposite of fun. Dis-fun, and heavy on the dis.

 

“S’matter, Boy Wonder?” Wally pulled the teen close by the shoulder and grinned sly. “This different without your skinny jeans?”

 

At the mention of the godforsaken pants, Dick blinked. A smirk conjured on his face and he turned his head slightly for the redhead to get a better view of him. “Just… _seriously judging_ your dance moves.”

 

“ _Hah_ ,” Wally snickered. He pressed up to his best friend with a grin. “I’m a perfect ten out of ten.”

 

“Yeah. A _negative_ ten.”

 

“Oh, you hurt me. Dude, loosen up a little.” From the corner of his eye, a pretty girl caught Wally’s attention. He curled both hands on either side of the old Boy Wonder, bringing him close until they were loosely skin-to-skin and jerked his head in that direction. “That girl over there’s checking you out. See?”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

 _“Oh my god_ it’s like you’re thirteen again without the sex drive!” Wally shoved Dick roughly. “ _Go_.”

 

Even pushed against his will, the infamous Dick ‘Grace’-son managed to look smooth and suave as he steadied himself before walking in the direction of the girl. He tossed a dirty look in Wally’s direction over his shoulder and was met with feigned disinterest. Once his best friend started talking to the pretty lady in the sleek black dress, Wally focused on himself. He turned around and eventually found a—well, a _guy_ , but a pretty hot looking one.

 

He’d been in a relationship with Artemis for five years, but that didn’t mean he’d never been interested in dudes before. The guy had dark hair that curled at a widow’s peak, and bright eyes that seemed lighter under the dance ornaments. He tapped Wally on the shoulder to get his attention and smirked.

 

Wally grinned back. Yeah, he could deal with this. “ _Hiya._ ”

 

“Hi yourself,” said the other man. He laughed softly, and that was the final kick the redhead needed to take all the weight off his shoulders.

 

From the corner of his vision, he saw Dick still preoccupied with the girl.  No doubt it was going well—Boy Wonder was also _Boy Wonderful_ at getting everything to go his way. So Wally focused on the songs as they reeled loudly in the foreground and pressed up to the dude that was clearly interested in him. _Clearly._

 

The guy felt the need to keep his fingers curled over Wally’s dead arm to keep him in place. Arching an eyebrow, Wally only smirked—

 

—until he felt the familiar shooting pain up his leg.

 

Like a syringe the length of Wally’s arm that stabbed straight into his Achilles tendon, pushed through the flesh of his leg until every bit of plastic was buried in the open wound, and dragged forcefully up his calf. Wally’s eyes widened, the breath in his lungs abruptly depleting. _No. No, no, no, **no.**_

 

He faltered in the next mix of rhythms and forced himself to clutch his dance partner for support. The ache shot up and pierced his chest. Nonononono—he—he _had_ one of these already _—today_.

 

This was not happening.

 

 “You…okay?” asked the guy—what was his name again? Steve…? J-Jace—Wally’s hands clawed into the bare flesh of Steve-Jace’s arms as another jolt shook him, and he choked. _This. Was. **Not**. Happening **.**_

 

“Gottago,” Wally murmured under his breath dizzily. His eyes searched the throng of partiers and only saw blobs of color. “Gottagetoutofhe—”

 

A gunshot.

 

Suddenly a girl’s scream ripped through the music, so high that it made Wally’s ears bleed amongst everything else. The music stopped, every living being freezing as the blood-curdling screech cut off every sound in existence.

 

One of the bartenders was slumped over the counter, head dangling off the edge of the guest end and blood spilling out of his abdomen. Someone else—who looked like _every other person in the room_ with light-up jewelry and gaudy clothes, held a gun to the other bartender’s face.

 

“I’m only going to say this once.” The man smirked. “Get the money out of the register. Everyone else? Get your fucking wallets out.”

 

Several metal clicks echoed through the mob of dancers, intermingled with innocent civilians. Wally squinted, focusing long enough that he could make out Dick’s face as it stared back at him, jaw tight in a scowl.

 

There was another scream—all from fearful citizens. Wally sucked in a breath and refused to cry out as he felt nails dig into his throbbing heart. The pain doubled back into his legs, making it hard to even keep on his feet. _Keep standing, West. Keep **standing.**_

 

_This was not **happening**. _

“I said _get the money out of the fucking register!_ ”

 

Once there was another gunfire, Wally made a run for it.

 


	5. Spasm, Family, Anger, Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude.” Wally intervened before Robin could do anything else. He pulled Robin back from the scene, knowing full well College Dude would cower in fear. “Let’s see here. You’ve got Superboy here, an Atlantean that can drown you in water conduits, this little freaky Bat here that knows how to dislocate your shoulder in like a hundred twenty different ways, aaaaand…me.”

The burn hammered through the rest of Wally before he was out the door and in the hallway. He was lucky that as soon as the second gunfire exploded, masses of people jolted into hysteria and bustled for the exit. _Some **fucking** luck._ There was a sequence fire of three or more bullets in the air and screams of absolute _panic_ that made Wally want to kill himself. He needed to be in there. _Retirement or not_ , he wasn’t completely useless.

 

If it wasn’t for the stupid _body shock._

 

Wally toppled over a ficus before he could make it to the restroom.  He cried out in pathetic pain, eyes squeezed shut despite himself and sunk teeth into the fingers of his dead hand until wet warmth filled his mouth. The sensation was like a bloody knife pumping through his veins, splicing all of his insides as energy crushed his lungs and collapsed his ribcage. An acute tingling blazed in the tips of his fingers and he lost the feeling in every part of his body.

 

Ten whole minutes, he lay with his back against the floor and stared at the ceiling. Wally choked on the saliva in his throat and withered away into nothingness. _Ten_ _long minutes_ until he could move again, instead of passing out like he’d done so many times in the past.

 

Wally tapped his fingers with a steady rhythm in order to calm himself. _Breathe._

**_Breathe._ **

 

Finally, it stopped. Wally lay limp against the cold floor, his eyes wide and stiff as they stared up into the ceiling and saliva dribbling at the side of his mouth. Taking in air was like breathing in thorns. His entire body quaked, and the shock registered in Wally’s mind like a neutralizer.

 

It’d never happened like that before. Never two spasms in the same _week_ let alone the same day. Never that short—never still leaving him conscious.

 

Wally closed his eyes and breathed in sharply, letting needles prickle at his lungs.

 

He thought back to the rest of that night—when he was still Kid Flash, Dick was still _Rob_ , and how clubbing was less lethal.

 

**xxx**

_Whatever thugs were in there dispersed the moment Superboy crashed through the door. Kid Flash and Aqualad spared each other one look before bursting into the room themselves, with the girls’ voices shouting in their heads for a play-by-play. What met them was a full bed, dressed in cheap and dirty sheets that made Wally sick to his stomach. Superboy flipped over a nearby table to scare the masses, with a scowl permanently pressed across his lips._

_The first thing Wally did was look over to College Dude, who’d plucked short Robin off the ground and dangled him above the air. College Dude’s eyes doubled in size and he turned over, swinging Rob as though he weighed nothing. “What the fuck is going on?!”_

_“Hahaha. You said you wanted a show, didn’t you?” In that instance, Rob’s voice deepened. He shimmied in College Dude’s grip and kicked him harshly in the jaw. (Harsh enough to make Wally wince—he was ninety-percent sure it was now broken.)_

_Kid Flash darted across the room in search for the suitcase he’d heard click. He ducked when Superboy threw a punch at one of College Dude’s many lackeys and practically tackled the titanium case to the ground when he found it._

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Drug Minion Number One growled in the speedster’s direction and lunged for him._

_Druggy was important to remember. Not actually powerful enough to do damage. Wally skidded across the ground as Drug Minion Number One ran toward him and managed to trip the moron in the process. Wally jumped over a chair to dodge the second guy and landed next to Rob._

_‘You okay?’ Without even thinking, he placed a hand securely around the Boy Wonder’s waist, to bring Dick closer to him and away from the damage._

_Falling into their normal characters, Robin crossed his arms and said nothing. Instead, he took the case out of Wally’s hand and…he was frowning. The, that-shouldn’t-have-happened frown._

_“Rob,” Kid Flash voiced aloud, and he turned the younger teen so they were looking at each other. His voice strained with concern, eyebrows contorting together. “You’re…okay, right?”_

_He had to hide the sigh of relief whenever Robin finally answered him. Even under his ridiculous guise, the guy’s behavior made Wally’s heart beat erratically. “There’s more drug. If I had a little more time I would have been able to get it all.”_

_What?_

_“Excuse you?” For a moment Kid Flash forgot what they were doing. His stature faltered and he stared at his best friend as though Rob had grown bat wings and was flying around like a unicorn. He dropped their current situation entirely—did Rob just say—? “Do you know what just **happened** here—?”_

_“Kid. Robin.” Kaldur cut both of them off with a scolding look. His water bearers had taken the form of a barrier to keep the druggies at bay. Electricity hissed along the surface of the constructs. All who was left was College Dude—who’d been thoroughly knocked out from Robin’s deadly kick. “Have you acquired everything?”_

_Like Wally’d said earlier—druggies didn’t exactly mean body-builder evil._

_The said Boy Wonder spared Wally one more look—one that made the anger boil in the speedster harder. Robin dropped to the floor and clutched College Dude by the front of his shirt. One or two shakes, and College Dude stirred in fright._

_He didn’t look as handsome as before. Greasy hair stuck to the guy’s forehead like a sweaty helmet, with veins that stuck out as rivulets in his thick net. Crimson red drowned out everything else in the man’s eyes, and his teeth turned into fangs as he scowled. He looked straight to Robin and again, Kid Flash placed a hand on the Boy Wonder protectively._

_But this time, Robin jerked away. What the hell._

_“Who are you?” College Dude snapped._

_“Where’s the rest of it?” Robin’s grip tightened on the man’s shirt._

_“Excuse you?” And—duh—the idiot’s eyes narrowed to the briefcase perched next to the young teen’s leg, then widened with realization. “You have it! You have the suitcase!”_

_“Hah. Yeah, and I know that probably isn’t your only stash. You’re a professional at this.” Anger radiated beneath Robin’s voice. Somehow, Wally knew immediately that it wasn’t all directed at college dude. Not entirely. If anything, for some shit crazy reason, Rob was definitely angry at his own team for barging in._

_College Dude fidgeted out of fear as Robin moved his hand, but the upset remained across his face. “I’m not telling you.”_

_“Dude.” Wally intervened before Robin could do anything else. He pulled Robin back from the scene, knowing full well College Dude would cower in fear. “Let’s see here. You’ve got Superboy here, an Atlantean that can drown you in water conduits, this little freaky Bat here that knows how to dislocate your shoulder in like a hundred twenty different ways, aaaaand…me.”_

_“A ginger who can run really fast.” College Dude’s eyes narrowed at him. “How threatening.”_

_Wally glared back. “I’ll tell you now—”_

_Rob held out a hand to restrain him. Beneath the shades, he looked to the redhead from the corner of his eye with a heavy-set jaw and jerked his head. ‘Find it.’_

_‘What? Oh.’ Nodding, the speedster pulled back and turned to Aqualad for confirmation. Their leader nodded tersely, with Superboys jaw tightening._

_The guy probably wanted to get a punch in for College Dude being so stupid._

_With agreement from everyone in the room, Kid Flash hurriedly sifted through drawers and under the bed. He burst through Aqualad’s barrier and padded down every bad guy. Nada. The redhead almost gave up, until he ran over a part of the ground that squeaked as he stepped foot upon it. A loose plank. Steering to a halt, he looked over to his three team members and nodded. ‘I think this is it.’_

_The plank that came loose allowed him to yank off other bits, until a 4x4 area was uncovered. Wally grimaced uneasily. Sure enough, three more suitcases the same length as the one in Robin’s grasp were visible, with tanks marked with the Joker’s Insignia. He ripped them out of place and stacked them neatly beside the team’s powerhouses before speeding back to College Dude._

_Who, didn’t look happy in the very least._

_Wally couldn’t help but feel smug over the fact. “Any questions?”_

_Glare. Aw—College Dude **did** care about him. “No.” _

_College Dude and the rest of his minions were promptly taken into custody and arrested. Party-goers were instructed to leave the premises and informed the club would be searched thoroughly for leftover miscellany of the drug or any more tanks of Joker’s laugh gas. They’d changed out of their guises back into uniform (save Robin, whose hair was still temporarily bleached) and rummaged the room. Once Zatanna caught sight of her boyfriend, she threw her arms around his shoulders and muttered in the secret language they’d made up since they started dating. For the first time since the break-in by Superboy, the shorter teen smiled, kissed her gingerly on the cheek, and assured her he was okay._

_They held hands the entire time they scavenged for sketchy objects in the club. Artemis had to commandeer the speedster away so they could look up in the attic; in case there was something they were missed._

_Once everything was gathered and brought back to the ship, they returned to Mount Justice to debrief with Batman. Again, Zatanna continued giving the Boy Wonder concerned looks. Robin kept a cool mask throughout Kaldur’s wording—which did nothing more than make Wally angry._

_As soon as the debriefing was over, Wally decided to ask about it._

_“What the hell is wrong with you?” Well—maybe ten minutes before the debriefing was over. When Kaldur cryptically grazed over details of how they ended up in the room._

_Wally’s question was met with surprise and silence from all parties standing on the main-op platform._

_Robin looked up from the various holographic panels, an eyebrow raised beneath his mask. He held his hands out in confusion, and a look that said, ‘don’t-do-this-here, dude.’ “Uh…what?”_

_“We’re seriously not going to talk about how you were nearly molested by that college dude back there?” Everyone around them visibly cringed. Wally bit back the stemming argument—‘right after we kissed?’ He puffed his chest out and marched over to jab a finger at the younger teen’s chest. “Oh, but that’s not what you’re pissed about—”_

_“Hey—” Rob’s face twisted, immediately going over the words in his head, and he frowned._

_“—you’re pissed that Supey barged into the room too soon, am I right?” Wally’s scowl worsened. “You were going to drag that out as long as you needed, no matter how dangerous it got, weren’t you?”_

_Twitch. Robin’s hands curled into fists at his sides and his demeanor scrunched with irritation. “Hahaha. Don’t tell me you thought I was going to let him screw me over.”_

_“No. Just screw you before you got what we came for.”_

_Oh, if looks could kill. Had Wally been surfing the room for their team’s reaction, he would have been greeted with dumbfounded looks. He’d kept the anger bottled in his chest since they caught the college kids red-handed, but was now at the point he was shouting everything that came to mind. And the key thought here was that he was freaking angry._

_A heartbeat passed between them. Robin looked uninterested in defending himself, and in a last effort, Wally turned to Batman to gauge a reaction._

_Batman wasn’t as easy to read. He turned to his protégé in silence, head shifting just slightly. “Robin?”_

_“He lifted me up and I broke his jaw.” Shrug. The younger teen jerked his head in Wally’s direction, almost accusing, before turning back to his partner in confirmation. “N.B.D. No big deal. Aqualad, Superboy, and Kid Idiot here saw it themselves. Batman, I’m fine.”_

_“Very well then.” The Dark Knight nodded curtly.  “We’ll scan for injuries when we get back to Gotham. You give me no reason to doubt you.”_

_No way. **No way** , Bats was giving the affirmative for what just happened here. Not only that, but Robin then turned to Wally, hands raised in the air as if saying, ‘that enough for you?’ The permanent frown across Wally’s lips was enough to make the head honcho sigh in exasperation. _

_“I presume that’s all that is needed for all the debriefing.” Batman turned his footing toward the zeta-beam exit and looked at Aqualad once more for confirmation. Their leader nodded. “Clearly this is a dispute that needs to be settled amongst you all. I can assure you that Robin has been trained to the best of his ability to handle any given situation. However…”_

_He trailed off, scanning the clearly not-turbed look settled in on the resident speedster’s face, and—given it was Wally, probably rolling his eyes under the cowl._

_Batman grunted before leaving. “Try not to kill each other.”_

_“Seriously?” Robin’s stature broke for an instant, taking a step toward his mentor. “Batman—“_

**_“Recognized: 02 - Batman.”_ **

_Great. Seeing as their only order was ‘not to kill each other,’ Wally started things off by throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. He stood parallel to the Boy Wonder, with his chest puffed out and his eyes bugged like a cartoon character’s. It might have been funny if he wasn’t so angry. “Okay—I get the incredibly gaudy outfit to make you stand out in the crowd. I even understand the Hello Kitty hairclips as part of the disguise. You? In a room by yourself with eleven people? Yeah. You’re a badass, man. **I get it**.” _

_“Then why,” Robin said calmly, gritted his teeth, “are we having this argument?”_

_“Because your stupid reaction to this entire thing is—‘you should have waited longer, I’ve got this’!” Wally’s face flared red with anger and he gripped the teen by his tunic. “Admit it. You’ve been pissed this entire ride back to the cave because we interfered.”_

_Robin pushed him off. “I would have been able to get what we needed by myself, Wally. Dude. Why are you so **bent** on this?” His lips stretched into a crooked frown and he mimicked Wally’s hand gestures with frustration. “We got the bad guy. We got the drug that we came for. Sure, I was pissed for like two seconds, but you’re the one that won’t shut up about it right now.” _

_“ROB **. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN RAPED!** ” The words left a disgusting taste on the speedster’s mouth. Wally slapped the shorter teen’s hands out of the way and gripped him tightly by the shoulders. He shook his best friend like it would finally make sanity sink in. “And now you’re looking at it like it’s the team’s fault for running interference. Supey burst through the door for a reason, man. And so help me, I was about to do it myself!” _

_“Nothing. Happened.” Robin gripped both of Wally’s hands tightly and glared. His jaw was tight with anger, face even splashed with red from the fury Wally felt himself. “We got the drug. We arrested the bad guy. KF, you’re taking something I said to you in passing and making me sound like I’m—”_

_“A kid?” Wally cut him off._

_It was met with crossed arms and a glower._

_Gah. “Gah! I can’t deal with you!” Wally clawed red hair between his fingers and paced across the circular platform. He tossed his head up to the sky and screamed into the air with frustration._

****

_Artemis pulled him out of the situation like an owner taking hold of its fitful cat. He was manhandled, pulled to the side with a hand wrapped tightly around his in a death grip. She tossed a look in Robin’s direction as Zatanna clearly did the same to her boyfriend._

_“Hey—!” The archer also slapped a hand on Wally’s mouth before he could say anything more._

_“Aside from Wally’s outburst,” she started with an irritated grumble, “he has a point.”_

_The fact that Robin was trying to remain incredibly calm about the situation while Wally was close to having a mental breakdown only irked him more. The Boy Wonder rolled his head with exasperation and tilted it to the side. He looked back, expecting an explanation._

_“Megan, Zee, and me were on the ship. All we could hear were voices from the transmission that was going on.” Artemis pushed Wally back and crossed her arms to meet the younger teen’s stature. Her eyebrows contorted unpleasantly. “Robin, you scared us. How the hell do you think we’re going to react? This may be hunky dory and normal for you, but we were freaking out.”_

_“I heard a pulse going faster.” Conner shook his head and frowned. Blue eyes narrowed to the shorter teen, flashing with upset. “You really expect me to leave you in a room with those…those men? Sorry that I went with my first instinct with this, Rob.”_

_Wally took the opportunity to push Artemis’s hand off his mouth. “There! You see?”_

_From the other side of the room he could see Robin’s fingers curl into fists. The Boy Wonder ducked his head, gaze at the ground and lips pressed together in a difficult frown. Zatanna placed a hand gently on his shoulder and whispered something too quiet for any of them to hear._

_“Okay?” she finished._

_“Ugh.” Shaking his head in defeat, Robin changed his footing and ushered out of the room. He spared Wally one more glare before stomping down the hall, to the other side of the mountain, where he slammed the door so loudly that everyone left on the team winced._

_Wow. No apology, and nothing to say to the team even though it was pretty obvious Wally was right. Biting down a glare of his own, he turned around and faced the team. “Who’s up for movie night?”_

_It was a tradition of the team that if a mission ended during the weekend, they would watch movies and sleep at the cave. Which probably was why Robin elected to go to his room instead of storming out like Batman. That—and whatever Zatanna said to him probably calmed him down enough so he wouldn’t leave._

_Once they all changed into civvies, Wally called dibs on the couch. Megan and Conner went into the kitchen to bring out food and refreshments, and Artemis started a conversation with Kaldur. Her grip was tight over his hand, to the point nails were digging into the speedster’s knuckles. Wally decided to ignore it—because whenever his girlfriend did that, it meant she thought he was being an asshole. And there was no way he was at fault for this._

_They chose to watch Perks of Being a Wallflower. Which didn’t help an angry speedster, given the lead sort of looked like Dick Grayson. He tossed his head back with an audible groan, which earned confused looks from everyone on the team._

_Robin didn’t show up._

_Halfway through the movie, Zatanna excused herself from their festivities. It hadn’t gone unnoticed._

_Realizing their magician had gone to comfort their resident acrobat, Wally reached for the remote and hiked the volume up louder. Artemis swiped it from him and tossed it on the table. Ugh._

_“Please don’t tell me I’m the one to blame for this.” Wally crossed his arms fitfully in front of his girlfriend._

_Who proceeded to swat him upside the head. Artemis frowned at him quaintly, head tilted to the side. He had to hand it to her—this was Artemis being calm.  “You’re the one who brought it up, Wally.”_

_Wally made a face. “Yeah, but—”_

_“And you were right. We were all worried about him. And you’re not wrong for bringing it up either. We know you were worried about him too. He’s your best friend.” She shook her head, rubbing a thumb over his knuckle gently before looking back up. Artemis’s expression morphed, eyes flickering in a way Wally’d never seen before. The way she scrutinized him made his temper lessen—and he looked back, expression slackening. “And we all know that Robin is a professional at what he does.”_

_True. Wally leaned back. “He could’ve kicked their butts with both hands tied behind his back if he wanted.”_

_“Right. He’s incredibly stupid for making us worry, and we should have trusted his abilities. He’s Robin, the Boy Pain.” The blonde jabbed a finger into Wally’s arm pointedly and raised an eyebrow. “You’re his best friend. Coming from you of all people hurt him.”_

_“Yeah—but—!”_

_“Wally. Let me put it to you this way.” She shoved him off the couch._

_“Oof!” Wally fell to the floor and hit his head on the ground. Kaldur, Conner, and Megan looked over in confusion._

_“If you don’t make up with him, I’m not letting you walk me home tomorrow. And then you won’t be able to bring home the bánh canh my mother planned on making.” Artemis leaned over the armrest of the couch and pressed a foot to Wally’s head. “Understood?”_

_“Gahhh. Okay, okay. Now get your foot off my head—you know I hate toes!”_

_Turning over to his back, Wally passed a glare to his girlfriend. He pushed off the ground as Artemis gave an angelic smile and crawled to his feet. As he walked down the hall, he caught a glimpse of Megan floating over to her best friend and giving each other fist-bumps._

_Great. Girls were scary when they conspired. Blowing the hair out of his face, Wally made his way toward Robin’s room. He raised a hand to knock on the door—which opened with an impromptu Boy Wonder colliding straight into Wally and knocking the speedster over._

_“Oof!”_

_“Ow! What is it with people pushing me to the ground today?” Ouch. Wally hit the back of his head to the floor once more and groaned in pain. He looked up blearily as Robin pushed off of him to rub his head. They sat parallel to each other, matching painful grimaces and—ow. Wally pinched the bridge of his nose in pain._

_Behind the door, Zatanna peeked out the door with an eloquent and knowing smile. “Tfil htob syob ot rieht teef.”_

_There was a rush. Wally made a noise before some otherworldly force plucked both teenagers to the ground until they stood erect. He felt the motion in his belly and made a face—unlike Robin, who was clearly used to Zatanna’s powers by now._

_“Since you two are both here,” she announced sweetly, and detached herself from the door, “I’m going to assume you’re apologizing to each other. So if you excuse me, I’ll be in the other room. Over there. Watching the movie and eating popcorn. We good?”_

_Robin nodded jerkily, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Good.”_

_“Great. I’ll see you two when you’re done making up.” The magician spared both of them looks before moving aside. She walked halfway down the hall before looking over her shoulder menacingly. “And you two will make up. Otherwise I’ll put the cave on lockdown.”_

_Silence. They waited until Zee had disappeared into the movie night darkness before turning to each other. Wally looked down to his best friend and made a face, just as Rob crossed his arms. “You showed her how to put the cave on lockdown?”_

_The younger teen shrugged. “All she has to do is say the words backwards and it’ll be locked down anyway.”_

_“Dude. You are so whipped.”_

_“Opposed to Artemis threatening to take your food away unless you and I make up?”_

_“How did you—”_

_“I didn’t.” A ghost of a smirk appeared across Robin’s face and he shook his head. “Dude. You’re just that predictable.”_

_“Oh. Right. Hey!” Twitching, Wally made a face and instinctively reached out to swat Robin over the head. The acrobat laughed and ducked, making him miss by at least a good foot and a half. Despite himself, Wally laughed too._

_Then nothing. Silence. Robin had grabbed his arm in retaliation, with a grin split across his face. Once the laughter died out, it left just the two of them—green orbs staring at the shades of his best friend, and smiles that immediately faded. Wally’s arms fell to his side, and they kept a foot of distance from each other._

_Okay. Deep breath. “I’m—”_

_“—sorry.”_

_Blink._

_Blink._

_The speedster scratched his head an scrunched his face. “Hey—I’m the one apologizing here.”_

_“Yeah?” Robin glared back, hands crossed over his chest tersely. “Well, I’m apologizing too.”_

_“Dude—”_

_“Dude.”_

_“You’re serious.” Wally strapped both hands on the Boy Wonder’s shoulders, and relished in the fact for the first time that night that Robin didn’t push him off. Instead, he pulled Robin aside, eyebrows pressed together and looked at him closely. “You’re apologizing to me.”_

_“Yeah…?” Robin placed his hands on top of Wally’s and shifted his weight. He looked up to the redhead tentatively, lips curling unenthusiastically. “And you’re doing the same thing.”_

_“Yeah. I’m…I’m sorry. Look, I just spent the past twenty minutes agreeing with Arty about how much of a badass you are.” Wally ran one of his hands through his hair and squeezed Robin’s shoulder tightly with the other one. “You just…you’re my best friend, okay? And I got scared. If…it were anyone else—Artemis, Zatanna, Conner—I would have run in for them too.”_

_“Artemis was trained by assassins. Zatanna can do magic. Conner is—”_

_“Dick.”_

_“Right.” Robin looked to the ground thoughtfully, his eyebrows pinched together and lips curled into a small frown. Looking back up, the teen gave a small nod. “I would have done the same thing. If…it were you, or anyone else on the team. Maybe dislocate a few more jaws.”_

_Snort. “Of course you would.” Wally nudged the acrobat halfheartedly. “Look—I’m…always going to be here. Questioning every stupid decision you do. And I expect you to do the same for me.”_

_“I’m listening.”_

_“We’re a family, Rob. And family always looks out for each other.” The redhead’s demeanor flickered wryly, the corner of his lip raising. “Friends?”_

_He searched for the look of hesitation across the younger teen’s face as soon as he said that. Dick’s lips curled firmly together in debate—but slowly, formed into that usual dorky smile. “Friends.”_

_“Good.” Wally hugged him._

_“What the—dude.”_

_“Hey, you still pissed me off. Consider this your punishment.” Unlike Dick’s usual snark, he actually hugged back. Wally felt tiny arms wrap around his torso, and buried his face in the curve of Robin’s neck once more. His arms were firmly wrapped around the tiny teen beneath him, hands hooking together._

_Wally closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Sweet Pea. Robin’s warmth pressed up against his cheek, ebony locks poking at his own. He…thought back to the club. To this same exact position, holding Robin closely and feeling the Boy Wonder’s pulse against his own. Robin’s arms looped over his shoulders, hands clawing the back of the redhead’s back. He rested his head against Wally’s ear, and they remained knotted together._

_A content sigh left Wally’s lips—followed by the painful ache that squeezed his chest. Robin was muttering stuff under his breath too quiet for him to hear._

_“Rob?” Wally murmured softly into the teen’s neck. Fingers rubbed circles into the freckles on his neck, and he heard a soft ‘hmm?’ in reply. “About that kiss…?”_

_Hands stopped altogether, loosening over the speedster. Robin pushed off, standing firmly on his own two feet. He fixed the shades over his eyes, hands running down on either side of Wally in a way that made him shiver. All the speedster could see was his reflection in the darkness of Robin’s civilian disguise, with eyebrows knitted together in indecision. “Never happened?”_

_Because Dick was dating Zatanna and Wally himself was…well, finally dating Artemis. No matter how intense that kiss felt—who was he kidding, it was a freaking ten-second makeout—that was all undercover. There was no need to mention it, no need for Zee or Arty to freak out over it. No reason for **them** to freak out over it. _

_“Right,” Wally agreed. “Never happened.”_

**xxx**

Dick was pissed.

 

 _Beyond_ the word pissed. Once he heard the gunfire, he took the girl Wally had shoved him toward and covered her on the ground. The terrifying shrieks from the other end of the room had garnered his attention straight away, and caused the girl he was with to stop dancing. He’d hated the feel of the place as soon as Wally had brought him in. It was too clean, too unguarded. Given how sketchy the street around _Blush_ looked, his suspicions were confirmed.

 

And his eyes didn’t leave the path Wally had taken to dart out of the room, when everyone else was screaming bloody murder. He’d made eye contact with the redhead who (Dick swallowed the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach) was preoccupied with a tall, awkward-looking freshman. And Wally had looked _back_.

 

In green eyes, it registered what kind of situation they’d gotten themselves into at the new club. It made Dick instantly reach for the eskrima sticks he kept hidden. In his line of sight there were approximately five _morons_ wielding pistols—and another one standing on top of the counter holding a gun to the lone bartender’s face. When another shot had been fired in the air as a warning signal, Wally had _bolted._

 

Wally _ran._

 

Seething in anger, the teen could feel himself turn red with rage. He bit the feeling back and cocked his head up to hear gunfire. People ran in hysteria, stepping anywhere they pleased in order to find an exit or a shield while the buffoon in charge howled like a hyena.

 

“What are we going to do?” whimpered the girl beneath him. Her hands clinched around Dick’s neck tightly, tears forming in the crevasses of her eyes. He sighed. _Dammit._ “Ohmygod,ohmygod, I can’t believe we’re _here_ —”

 

“Hey.” Dick forced a finger upon her lip to quiet her and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, what’s your name?”

 

The tears accumulated and her lower lip quivered cutely. Her hair had gotten tangled between his fingers when they slammed into the ground. “B…Bella.”

 

“Okay, Bella. Lay low in the crowd. If you stay beneath everyone, they shouldn’t be able to find you. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he repeated steadily, hair falling into his eyes, “okay?”

 

“O…Okay.” She gasped, boogery sobs leaving her lips and dribbling out of her nose. Dick took the moment to unwind her hands from his neck and stood up. “But what are you going to—”

 

Before she had the chance to catch up to him, he surfed through the crowd of frightened people and unstrapped the eskrima sticks from the back of his pants. The teen whipped out a pair of shades from his pockets, shielded blue eyes perfectly, and inched toward a corner of the room where the least people were crowded. Already, civilians had began digging in their pockets and purses, throwing out their wallets and whatever valuable items that were strapped to them. The DJ had been forced into a headlock, with a gun shoved down his throat.

 

“Everyone drops their phones,” said the main man. He looked to be in at least his late twenties, with three piercings in each ear and snake bites on his mouth. Judging by the way his hands shook with anticipation as he held the gun up to the bartender, this was his first heist. “No one calls the police! The first person I see dialing gets a bullet in the ear.”

 

Nightwing headbutted the first guy to his right. He elbowed the man straight in the stomach, heard a disgruntled cry, and disarmed him immediately. The gun fell to the ground in a _CLATTER_ and evoked a shrill cry from bystanders.

 

Another gunman turned his head, eyes wide in absolute shock. “What the—”

 

Dick elbowed him in the throat and tripped him. The crowd dispersed, all in distinct murmurs as the rest of the head honcho’s henchmen directed their attention toward him. He stood tall, gripping both eskrima sticks tightly in his hands. Flicking one in the air, a mocking smirk curled across his lips and he cocked his head toward the counter. “How’s the weather up there?”

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” hissed the finicky man. Finicky Man’s trembling arm pointed in his direction. “ _Get down!_ ”

 

“Get back,” the teen ordered the crowd. He pushed by near standers and managed to dodge the bullet as it was aimed toward him. His guess was that although the criminals were planning a large heist at the club, they didn’t expect someone to stop them.

 

Which was why disarming the bad guys here was incredibly easy. Like combating against a five-year-old.

 

Well. Clearly, if he wasn’t going to get his fix of bad guys while on patrol because of Wally, he might as well take it out here.

 

 _SMACK._ Because Wally insisted enthusiastically for him to come over— _three days in a row_ , making him skip out on his duties as Nightwing.

 

 _SMACK._ Because of all places Wally could have taken him, it was to a club.

 

 _SMACK._ Because Wally insisted on moving on with his life.

 

 _SMACK._ To get a new girlfriend.

 

_SMACK._

 

It wasn’t that he minded Wally moving on with his life. He pushed away the painful knot in his throat the moment he knocked on the door over a week ago. _But_ —Dick thought as he disarmed thug number eight—Wally was still out of commission, still off the roster, and still _forcing himself_ to live a _stupid, normal life._ And that fucking idiot had the nerve to run out of the room during a crime scene.

 

The teen’s stomach quenched. He kneed the last minion in the abdomen, gripped him tightly, and kicked him back. The ten ‘evil henchmen’ lay on the ground either groaning in pain or slowly losing consciousness. That left Nightwing standing parallel to the main man who was frozen with fear, bloodshot eyes wide and glossy. He leaned in scornful relaxation and smiled grimly.

 

“You’re going to drop the bag, give everyone back their wallets and drop the weapon. _Understood_?” Dick trekked one footstep forward to emphasize his point.

 

“N-No,” Finicky Man stammered. He shoved the Bartender away with brutal force and clutched a burlap sack that had been filled with items before scrambling off the counter. His eyes widened in fear, yellow teeth chattering. “Y-You can’t take me in man! I-I’m still standing! _D-Don’t come any closer!_ ”

 

The teen took calculating steps, all the way toward Finicky Man until they stood parallel to each other, with cold metal pressed at the square of Dick’s chest. Beneath the shades, blue eyes narrowed somberly, and he placed an unworried hand over the gun. “Go ahead. Shoot me.”

Finicky Man’s eyes strained red, with eyebrows tensed all the way to his hairline. He dropped the gun with a heavy thud, and Dick used the opportunity to grab the man from behind.

 

“Anybody got a scarf?” he called out warily. The crowd of people looked to him in absolute stun. This…would have been easier if he wasn’t stuck in civilian clothing. They stared at him with mouths opened wide and eyes popped out of their sockets. Dick made a point not to search for Bella in the crowd. If there were any way to salvage the situation with the least attention as possible, he was open for it. A lady up front unwound the cloth from her neck and tentatively came forth with her girlfriend. Dick smiled. “Thanks. Now…anyone sane enough to call the police?”

 

Fifteen minutes later, sirens whirred outside the club scene. Policemen burst through the doors, along with medics in case there were injured person that Nightwing had missed. Many of the girls (and some guys) had been generous to double knot temporary cuffs over the fallen criminals, and guns were unloaded and packed in a box to be given in as evidence.

 

As the attention went from Nightwing guarding both the box and men to the barricading officers, he shoved the evidence toward the bartender and made a swift exit through door he’d seen Wally go through. Once he was out of the line of fire, Dick stormed down the hall with hands coiled into fists and jaw clenched tight.

 

Wally was near the bathroom door, leaning against the entrance with a hand over one of his shoulders.

 

Rage blazed in Dick’s body, reigniting in absolute fury. He saw green eyes looked up in acknowledgement—then, lost it. “ _What the hell¸_ Wally?”

 

The redhead’s face scrunched together, the guilt evident in his gaze. He pushed off the wall stiffly, with a palm pressed firmly behind him and opened his mouth to speak. Dick didn’t give him the chance to.

 

“You know—you made that decision all those years ago to quit. You and Artemis both—and I respected that. The _Team_ respected that.” Dick jabbed a finger to the speedster’s chest and he glowered. “I have _always_ given you the fucking benefit of the doubt, and _hoped_ that you would return to the field _permanently._ And for you to _run out of there_ like it was no big fucking _deal_ —”

 

“Is everyone okay?” Wally cut him off. His demeanor tensed, eyebrows glued together and mouth twisted with discomfort.

 

The teen ceased from his anger. Just for now. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes narrowing cruelly and scowled. “They’re _fine._ Just— _how far were you planning on carrying this fucking charade and saying you’re not a hero_? _How many_ innocent lives do you plan on putting at risk, just because you don’t _feel like_ being Kid Flash?”

 

“’Fucking charade’?” The redhead’s eyes doubled twice in size. He gritted his teeth and pushed against the teen, to put at least two feet of air between them. “Dude, you know for a _fact_ I don’t treat hero-ing like a _fucking charade._ You have _no idea_ what’s going on in my life right now!”

 

“‘ _Dude!’”_ Dick mimicked callously. “ _YOU JUST LEFT A ROOM FULL OF INNOCENT BYSTANDERS AT GUNPOINT! HAHAHA!_ ” Dick shoved back, maybe twice as hard as the frustration boiled in his chest. “And _I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now_? Sure—” _Shove._ “—I bet you go to school every day, go to your stupid _internship_ with STAR labs, sip some _turb_ ing coffee, feed your _stupid_ dog and live some humdrum life. I bet you spent the day hitting on every girl you saw at a café—or, for that matter, _everything_ between the ages eighteen and thirty that had a pulse. I _bet_ you turned on the news today and just went, ‘Hmm, _good for those firemen for saving the cat out of the tree_.” _Shove._ “I bet, _not once_ today, you even _thought_ of being Kid Flash again, or even in that room, _thought_ how _scared_ those people were!”

 

Wally’s back hit the wall and he winced. For some reason, he rubbed his knuckles—then glared at the teen with just as much anger. He pushed Dick back and stood taller on his feet. “ _Look._ I’m so fucking _sorry_ that I walked away from the heroing life. I’M SORRY I WASN’T _THERE_. But you—” _Shove._ “—are _not_ the person who tells me what I can fucking do and not do in my life! That is _not_ your job!”

 

Dick fell three steps back and coiled his hands into fists. His eyes narrowed at the speedster and he shoved away the thought to just _punch_ him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke steadily. “Really?”

 

“Really.” Wally swallowed hard and tapped his foot to the ground impatiently.

 

“I talked to Artemis, you know.” Dick shifted between his feet in hopes to calm himself down. It wasn’t working. Instantly green eyes perked, eyebrows rising in stun. The younger man’s nails dug into his palms. “She says that you don’t go running. You _trained_ yourself to stop speeding every other second. You _drive_ that stupid car so you can be _normal. Newsflash_ , Wally. _You’re not normal._ You _haven’t_ been normal since you got struck by lightning at age thirteen!”

 

“What the hell is with you?!” Wally’s voice raised—something that Dick wasn’t actually counting on. The redhead stepped forward, eyes double the size they were previously and the scowl on his face. “You know what, screw it. I’m _done_ with you!”

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

“You _heard_ me! You’re checking with my _ex-girlfriend_ to see what I’ve been up to? Do you check every time I use a zeta-beam tube? When I go home?  I’m _not_ your little guinea pig to _watch_ , Dick! _Not_ one of your freaking _pawns_ to move. What I do with my speed is _my_ choice and— _Not. Yours._ You can’t just order me around and tell me to put on the fucking uniform. You’re not my leader, I’m not on the team.” Wally threw his arms in the air. “I’m _done_ with you.”

 

Wait. “Wally—”

 

Wally sped way.

 

Quickly.

 


	6. Commit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You stop running for good. This time commit to the life without the costume, and hope the problem goes away by itself. Stop trying to be Kid Flash altogether.”

 

They ran a lot of tests.

 

Over and over, with the same results as last time.  The numbness had spread up his arm, all the way to his elbow since yesterday when Dick and he fought. Dr. Shriver checked out his vitals, drew a blood sample, and consulted with Cheung and Attar with the best plan of action. They allowed him to watch as they ( _slowly_ ) drew results and kept the pulse monitor strapped to his hand as he ran the course of the room, then even further in STAR Lab’s personal backyard.

 

At first, Wally felt fluid. Like he was fifteen again darting through enemy lines without a worry in his head. The redhead was able to flex his muscles, dig his feet into the ground, and accelerated to top speed without too much worry. The energy constricted in his chest, wind whistling in his ears until he pushed further— _600mps, 650mps—_ then, he reached his peak and fell over.

 

Literally.

 

Pain shot through his body like a flare gun, the burn reappearing in his left leg before he collapsed to the ground, face first. Dammit _._ Wally pushed against the ground with his hand again and felt the sting surge through his arm. _Dammit._ He shoved himself off—and instead, rolled onto his back, with his skull digging into fresh grass. _Dammit, dammit, **dammit!**_

 

“ _Wallace_!” hissed a member of his audience. Dr. Shriver and Dr. Attar appeared at his side and propped him up to a sitting position.

 

Numb, Wally attempted to jerk out of their grip and was met with a stronger hold from Cheung. He slammed a dead fist into the dirt and pushed sweaty goggles off his face. “Give it a minute. I can stand up if—if you _give it a minute_ , then I’ll be back on my feet again.”

 

“Mister West,” Dr. Cheung announced steadily. His expression hardened and he kept a secure hand on the man’s arm. “Forgive me if I’m being _forward_ about this, but you are the one that needs to calm down.”

 

Wally choked on a breath. He knotted grass between his fingers, legs crossing together, and felt his heart hammer violently in his chest, just like his head. “No, you’re…” He faltered and buried his face tiresomely in his hands. “You’re not being forward at all. Sorry. I’m—I’m cool. Promise.”

 

He sucked the air into his lungs until they felt full, stared at his sneakers tentatively, and pushed himself off the ground. Attar and Cheung looped his arms around their shoulders as he tried and failed to press weight on his feet. Dr. Shriver slipped the pace monitor off his wrist and frowned.

 

“Your heart is going double the pace it normally does, Wallace.” They carried him to a chair they had brought to the field and picked up a water bottle sitting on a table. “How do you feel?”

 

 _Weak._ “Like every part of my body locked up as soon as I tried to go further.” Wally wiped the sweat off his brow, head pounding, and gulped the bottle dry. He seethed, massaging his left calf gingerly, and closed his eyes when he realized he couldn’t curl his toes. Pressing a hand to his face, Wally leaned back in his seat and tried not to shrivel. “It’s spreading _._ ”

 

“To your legs?” Dr. Attar asked.

 

“Randomly.” Screwing the cap back onto his water bottle, Wally pushed onto his legs and held his breath, anticipating the moment he could stand on his own two feet. He took three steps forward, with all of doctors watching his every move, and curled his hands into fists. “I—I figured that if— _when_ it spread, it…would go to the other arm first.”

 

Two spasms in one day. _Two._ One that was powerful enough to knock him out for six hours and another one that happened less than _four hours_ consequently after the last one. At least that one didn’t knock him unconscious.

 

“Perhaps something else blocked you from running, Wallace.” Dr. Shriver stood in front of him—quickly, before Wally could possibly get away. Not that he even had the thought to. Her brow knit together like a worried mother, eyes inspecting him for a secondary reasoning for his behavior.

 

Wally almost laughed. He pushed the hair out of his face, felt a chill as air brushed against the sweat on his neck, and curled his hand into a fist. “I just had two shocks in the past two weeks, Doc. What do you think?”

 

She spared him a look, pitiful.  Great.

 

Sucking in a breath, Wally bit the inside of his mouth and turned back to the chair.  “Sorry.” Then, “Really—sorry. Mom…always says I should be a gentleman.” Along with always walking a girl to the door, always opening said door for her, and always keep a combat wrestling move ready for when she pinned him. (Again—did he mention his mother adored Artemis?)

 

“That’s quite alright.” Dr. Shriver pushed her glasses over her nose.

 

“More tests?” Wally swallowed hard.

 

She nodded. “More tests.”

 

Of course, more tests meant going to the building. Wally had been feeling the rush of alertness since yesterday—since the club incident. Bart informed him that the _Blush fight_ made Central City news, with the mysterious _Handle Bar Club Fighter_ being celebrated as a hero. With a whelming question— _Was this Central City’s next big hero?_

 

His first instinct would have been to call Nightiwng up and call him a _dog_ for becoming a mysterious hero in his part of town—had not their fight happened. Wally pinched the bridge of his nose between tests (testing the reaction time of both his dead hand and dying foot; trying shock therapy; doing both MRIs and CT scans of several parts of his body) and tried to shove the teen out of his mind.

 

It was _not_ Dick’s place to tell him what to do.

 

Not as a leader, not as a friend.

 

So much had happened in the past year between them that trusting Dick right off the bat was harder than he thought it would be. Because right off the bat, Wally _had_ trusted his best friend to _never_ treat him like a suspect. Someone to crack, someone to break.

 

And— _god_ , the argument about him coming back onto the field was such a freaking _broken record_ that he didn’t want to hear it. Wally dug himself the grave three years ago when he resigned from the team because of the issues with his powers. Working the words out now— _‘Something’s been manifesting since I was a little kid, and I’m dying’_ —didn’t seem like it would bode over well. Dick didn’t even _try_ getting in contact with him since their argument. The way it was going, he was surprised he hadn’t left with a bloody nose—or worse, given the old Boy Wonder had a black belt in every martial art known to mankind.

 

Wally wouldn’t have fought back—knowing he fully deserved it after abandoning the hostages.

 

This…was his life now.

 

Sucking in a breath, Wally lay at the table in something similar to a hospital bed and massaged the bone of his dead wrist. He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the hum of the machine around him, and forced himself to stay perfectly still.

 

Wading out existence, taking tests at STAR Labs, never running again, and wondering how long it would take before he lost all the feeling in his body. Then going home to see Bart waiting on the couch and assuring him he got all of his powers back.  He’d yet to even _conjure_ a spasm while being the test subject, so he wasn’t even sure how _right_ all of these conclusions were.

 

“What’s the verdict?” he asked when they allowed him to climb up the stairs out of the lab and into the monitoring room. Attar, Cheung, and Shriver pinned the results to a wall, and allowed him to see a silhouette of his body.

 

“We have a theory.” Dr. Attar turned around.

 

Wait. “Really?” Blinking, Wally trudged forward and placed a hand over Dr. Shriver’s seat to get a better look.

 

“Whenever you describe your body going into speedster shock,” Dr. Cheung started, and he pointed to Image A, “You describe it as though the energy and your powers are crushing your internal organs. You’ve spent the past three years trying to remain as a civilian, with fewer shocks.”

 

“Yeah. But that was before this year.” Wally dragged over a rolling chair and plopped down.

 

“Before this year you did not use your speed as much as you have now. The incident in Central City with Neutron, the incident with the Reach.” Dr. Shriver pointed to the second image. “And after both instances, you informed us these pains were the most intense than you’ve had before.”

 

Well. “Yeah.” Running a hand through his hair again, Wally leaned back in his seat. The incident in June in particular. Bart had told him that was when he first noticed the problem.

 

“Just today, your body locked up on you as you tried to go past the speed of sound, Mister West.” Dr. Attar reached for a clipboard that had all of the results of the past tests from the past two months. “We…have reason to believe that is Problem B. As you try to venture past the speed your limits allow, your body’s defense activates and stops you from doing so.”

 

“I’m slower than my uncle and my cousin. I know that.” He’d known that since he was a kid. Wally twitched, sifting through the results without really looking at them. By now he knew them by heart—and really, really didn’t want to know how slow his reaction time had gotten in his hands.

 

“It tries to protect you, but it is also what is causing the numbness in your body.”

 

Pause. _What?_ Looking up, Wally met the eyes of all three doctors and bit back the irritation from the pitiful looks that they gave him. He was getting so _tired_ of that. Running the information in his mind again, he sat up and gripped the armrest. “You’re…saying that because I’m trying to push my limits, I’m harming myself.”

 

“Not only that.”

 

“Great. I love a mug and plate of bad news in the morning.”

 

They gave him sad looks, instead of the usual callousness that went with his jokes. Dr. Cheung spoke up. “We believe that what you felt last night was an accumulation of excess energy. From… _not_ running.”

 

“Wait a minute.” The redhead twitched. “Excuse me?”

 

“You explained to us that you lost consciousness after time spent with Impulse. That would have been Problem B—your body shutting down in order to protect yourself. Problem A happened later on that night,” Dr. Shriver said. “It’s possible the energy accumulated in that short period of time—and without an external outlet, caused your body to spasm in order to rid itself of the problem.

 

There was no way this was real.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Wally pressed hands into the arm chair, eyebrow raising in the air in disbelief. He felt the beginnings of a headache throb at his temples. “You’re telling me that _because_ I run fast, I hurt myself. And _because_ I _don’t_ run—I _hurt_ myself?”

 

“We…did say that it was a theory,” Dr. Attar pointed out. His face twisted unpleasantly.

 

Wally’s brain basically stopped. “But that—” All lined up. Well. _Very_ well. All of the instances where he forced himself to stop running, and then the burst of pain as that unused energy tried to find an outlet. And when he _did_ go running… He buried his head in his hands. “No way.”

 

“I am sorry, Wallace.” Dr. Shriver placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

 

Without thinking, Wally jerked away.  There was no way _that_ was the solution for it. “The kid says I get my speed back. That I don’t just become a lifeless _vegetable_ , Shriver. You can’t just tell me that I have to _stop._ ”

 

When he looked back up, his caretakers were all giving him odd looks. Like he’d grown a second head with wings. The way they scrutinized him made discomfort swell in his chest.

 

“Surely,” Dr. Cheung said, “you don’t trust the methods of a thirteen-year-old boy, Mister West.”

 

Never underestimate the ‘methods’ of a thirteen-year-old boy. _Thirteen_ was the age that got him into the mess he was now. Wally scratched his head, still strangely apathetic. He just—didn’t know how to deal with this. And again, the way they _stared_ at him made his stomach twist warily. “He happened to build a time machine.”

 

“But the way he goes about it may end up exacerbating the problem rather than resolve it, Wallace.” Dr. Shriver’s tone shifted painfully. Her eyes narrowed beneath her glasses and she looked to him as a skeptic. “He is one of the reasons why your illness has accelerated this year, is he not?”

 

No. Bart was a hero. The redhead bit back a frown, instead sitting straighter in his seat. He curled his hands beneath the cushion and bit the inside of his mouth. But they were right—the past year had been spent with more incidents where he put on the suit than ever. The entire reason for him even _being_ here was to isolate the problem.

 

And going back and forth between his _hopeful_ cousin and notes written down at a lab was taking a toll on him.

 

“So what’s your remedy for the situation?” he asked quietly.

 

Dr. Shriver’s eyes flickered solemnly. She set the clipboard down, eyes narrowing to the teen, and shook her head. “You stop running for good. This time commit to the life without the costume, and hope the problem goes away by itself. Stop trying to be Kid Flash altogether.”

 

**xxx**

The following weekend, Wally decided to go home and spend the time in Central City. He asked the neighbor downstairs to feed the dog and make sure Brucely was let out at least once an hour so there wasn’t pee on the carpet—and so the dumb mutt could have the extra leg room. (One of them had to—right?)

 

The redhead packed enough for two days with the intent to stay the entire weekend and clear his mind. Luckily, when he spun the tale for his mother over the phone, she enthusiastically agreed to take him in and “cheer him up” from his breakup from Artemis. Which—given how his past few weeks had gone, hadn’t even crossed his mind. Wally hadn’t seen her since she moved out.

 

Mom apparently bought a mini-fridge for his old room and packed it with cold snacks in case he got hungry in the middle of the night. She spent money on his new wardrobe for the winter (like she always did) and assured him that there would be plenty of food waiting for once he got back home. Although he reminded her he would only be there for a _weekend_ , she cut him off and happily announced that “Richard” was allowed to come over as well, if he wanted something to eat.

 

Great. Five days of refusing to even _acknowledge_ his (ex)-best friend and his mother had to mention it because she wasn’t _up to speed_ with his personal life. He rolled his eyes on the phone and informed her he hadn’t answered the offer.

 

Friday night was spent with a relieving dinner with just his parents. They asked him all of the usual questions, badgered him about his personal life and—brought Dick up a lot. Wally finally had to stop in the middle of dinner and inform the pair they weren’t speaking. After that, dinner was silent. Bart came by later as a last minute sleepover, giving him odd looks while Wally averted his eyes.

 

They hadn’t seen each other since his visit with STAR Labs.  Who—too, Wally announced to his little team of doctors that he needed a break from them. They protested his decision, but the redhead cut them off. Wally needed a break.

 

A _real_ one, _away_ from trouble, _away_ from the possibility of picking a fight. Especially if it was going to end as badly as it did the other night. So he swallowed his feelings and took the sting hard, while Bart and he half-heartedly played videogames in his room. After a late-night run to get ten pints of ice cream from Wal-Mart (of course, after searching for Dad’s car keys and hijacking the car— _along_ with trying to tell an impatient adolescent speedster to shut up), they rode out their sugar rush. At about four in the morning, Wally advised Bart to crash on the bed and searched his old closet for extra blankets so he could sleep on the floor. (Apparently he was too big for his old sleeping bag. Bart declared himself a caterpillar and decided to use _that_ as his blanket on the mattress.)

 

The wooden floor creaked when he turned the lights off. Wally felt a small lithe body curl up next to his, and a tiny arm try to reach over his torso.

 

Sigh. “Bart—”

 

“We’re fixing the problem,” the tiny teen whispered. “You’re _going_ to be Kid Flash again. Okay?”

 

All thoughts drew short in Wally’s head. _Jeez._ He hadn’t even told the kid about the spasm yet. Or…the visit with STAR Labs. What they told him. Bart’s hand hooked around his dead arm, and—instantly, the brunet twitched like a _roly-poly_ before snoring _loudly_ the redhead’s ears.

 

Wow. Wally fidgeted and rolled his eyes. _Brat._

 

He unrolled the slumbering speedster from his burrito of a sleeping bag, and spread it over the both of them. The brunet muttered something about _tacos_ and nuzzled his forehead into Wally’s arm like a child. Even in his _sleep_ this kid never stopped moving.

 

Wally sighed and closed his eyes.

 

It was just the break he needed.

 

The next day was committed to hanging out with Aunt Iris. Fortunately Bart would be preoccupied with the team all weekend. (Wally hadn’t the slightest idea how the kid was able to pop awake after less than three hours of sleep, manage to help his mom out with breakfast, and dutifully recite the _Funnies_ at the table after he accidentally set them on fire.) Dad would be at work, Uncle Barry was busy with League missions, Mom and Joan had gone to their weekly book club. (And Wally figured Jay would be excited to finally catch up on those old-people naps since he had the house to himself.)

 

At thirty-seven weeks of pregnancy, it was amazing Aunt I’s stomach hadn’t exploded into a pile of guts yet. She’d been on maternity leave for the past few days with no one to entertain her. Uncle B was preoccupied as the Flash, Mom and Dad had their jobs and—well, given it was Aunt Iris, Wally assumed she was tired of knitting booties with Jay and Joan. Even Bart had his own preoccupations, and the redhead didn’t need to ask if his little cousin visited the woman.

 

The (ex)speedster offered a smile when he greeted her at the door and Aunt I nearly took him out with that swollen belly. (Pregnant ladies were a dangerous weapon—go figure.)

 

“Someone looks beautiful. And—uh. Dangerous.” He had to lean over her to give a proper kiss on the cheek and a hug. Amusement teemed in his eyes for his favorite aunt. “Lady Flash?”

 

“I think I’ll pass on that.” She laughed gratefully, confirming that, _yes,_ the Best Aunt in the World was definitely dying of boredom with no one to entertain her. Aunt Iris shut the door behind them and gestured for Wally to come into the room. “What’s the plan for today, babe?”

 

“I figured…baking cookies and Lord of the Rings marathon?” Wally gestured to the satchel in his grasp and offered a cheeky grin. “I got all three _Hobbit_ movies too.”

 

“You’re _wonderful._ ”

 

“Hey—I got the best aunt in the world, don’t I?”

 

They moved their order of operations to the kitchen, where Wally struggled to hide his amusement. He’d seen her throughout the pregnancy and carrying the twins—but it was strangely the cutest thing to watch, with her waddling around in a maternity dress. The Allen Household was filled with new baby stuff—baby bassinets, baby bottles, baby _changing tables_ , baby onesies that weren’t folded up yet—and all of them still in the original packaging. Wally would have bet his entire lifesavings that Uncle B was going to assemble everything last minute after the babies were born. Showoff.

 

“Bart came over earlier to eat breakfast,” Aunt Iris explained when he looked to the seat that was still pulled out at the table.

 

“Really? Because he was just over at my house twenty minutes ago setting the toaster oven on fire.” Arching a wry eyebrow, Wally looked up to his aunt as she searched the cabinet for flour. He had to hand it to her—any other person probably would have gone crazy from this long of interaction with three men with super speed.

 

Well. He rubbed his numb knuckles thoughtfully and reached for an empty bowl to mix the contents in. Two guys with super speed.

 

“Are you feeling alright?” Aunt Iris broke through his ministrations before he could delve into his thoughts.

 

Looking up, he was met with a thoughtful smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with concern. The redhead bit the inside of his mouth and shrugged. “Uh…yeah. I mean…you’re the one that’s going to explode with guts within the next few days, right?”

 

“Charming thought.” She gazed upon him wryly, hand pressed gently over her stomach. In a matter of moments, her look softened and she ruffled his hair again. “I know that look on your face. You got something on your mind?”

 

“What makes you think I’ve got something on my mind?”

 

“Because you’re never without a thought.”

 

“Fair point.” Running a hand through his hair, Wally struggled for a smile and sat down. “I needed a break from being _Wally West,_ soon-to-be college graduate.”

 

“Any reason in particular?” she went over to the refrigerator and pulled out the carton of eggs. “Wally West, my sweet nephew?”

 

“Yeah.” The words swelled in his throat and he smiled down thoughtfully to his fingers. A short sigh left his throat and he rubbed his head. He might as well talk to someone about it—so far his entire family felt the need to badger him about his relationship with one Richard John Grayson. “Uh…Dick and me. We had a fight.”

 

Unlike his parents, Aunt Iris gave him an odd look he couldn’t decipher. Mom and Dad were disappointed last night when he announced what happened—but he hadn’t had the nerve to tell him why. Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry were always a different case. He told her _everything_ , even before Uncle Barry ever came into the picture. She understood him more.

 

“Not one of our usual fights either,” he continued when he saw the look on her face. Wally stood up instantly to pull out a chair for the pregnant woman. Her eyes flashed with concern and Wally couldn’t help but sigh in frustration. “He’s…mad. That I won’t put the costume back on.” Looking her in the eye, his brow twitched. “Permanently.”

 

“Ah.” She nodded sagely, eyebrows contorting together. “You know when you did the experiment back when you were thirteen, Barry was worried sick about you.”

 

“Because I stole the ingredients for it from your closet.” A wistful smile curled against Wally’s lips, thinking back to the day he nearly killed himself.

 

“And after you nearly _died_ ,” the woman responded, returning her nephew’s look, “he wanted to cherish every moment he had with you as Kid Flash. When you hung up the suit, he was sad. But we all always had your best interest in mind.”

 

“Thanks for that.” Wally reached over and fiddled with the carton of eggs. He bit the inside of his mouth and looked across the table. “I just…wish Nightwing realized that too.  You should have seen the look on his face when he saw me at the—” He cut himself off. Explaining the entire contents of the fight meant explaining everything.

 

Aunt Iris reached over the table and placed a hand over his with concern. “At the what?”

 

“Nothing.” The redhead pressed a hand to his face and curled his brow in frustration. He tried to look at her, and found it absolutely impossible. “He was already mad that I dragged him to a club. Apparently he’s been missing patrol to spend the time with me.” Which, he tried hard not to feel guilty of. “I mean—he _can’t_ pin the blame on me, right? I—I didn’t _ask_ him to give up anything to spend time with me. This is the whole reason Artemis and I couldn’t work out since she wants to go back to being a hero—there are so many things that you have to _give up_ to be together, and it’s not okay on _either_ life, so—”

 

“Wally.” Aunt Iris cut him off, eyes narrowed. “You know that’s exactly how your uncle and I live, right?”

 

Wait. “Well—”

 

“I live my life as a civilian, expecting the twins, going to my job,” she gestured to her stomach. “And he lives life as a forensic scientist for the Central City Police Department and has business with the league. And we’re married. We make it work.”

 

Yeah. But. Uh. The redhead blinked, staring blankly at his aunt. “Yeah, but that’s different. You…do more than that.”

 

“I’m sure I’m not the only person with a superhero for a husband, hon.” She stood up, steadily pushing herself off the table and went over to preheat the oven. “And I’m assuming your relationship with Dick hasn’t been the same since you quit the team.”

 

“Well…no. I saw him less to begin with.”

 

“Pursuing a relationship with someone in a costume is hard, Wally. But you learn how to make it work.” Iris came back and sat down in front of him. She gave him another sympathetic look and gripped his dead hand. “You two have been best friends since the day you became Kid Flash. I’d hate to see you throw it all away because of some silly fight.”

 

Except for the fact that fight escaladed into more, bringing in the fact that Dick was _monitoring hi_ —“Wait. Did you just say ‘pursue a relationship’ with Dick Grayson?” Snapping out of his ministrations, Wally’s eyes bugged out of his head. In return, Aunt I gave her nonchalant shrug that meant she had nothing else to say about the conversation. “You… _do_ know that I just broke up with my girlfriend like—”

 

“Two weeks ago?” she placed a hand on his shoulder gently and offered a smile. “There isn’t a designated time limit for getting over relationships, Wally.”

 

“Funny. Pretty sure Mom said the same thing to me yesterday.” Right before she delved into a conversation about how he and Dick were doing. Wally scratched his head, eyes staring at the table in shock. He ran the thought through his mind—which, only came up with him running straight into a wall. _Okay then._ “I’m…not up for a new relationship just yet, Aunt I. It’s…just too soon.” Besides—he hadn’t even thought about his best friend in that light in years. No point to.

 

“I understand.”

 

“Seriously, Aunt I.  I…” He pursed his lips. “I bought her an engagement ring.”

 

The look on her face next made his chest tighten. Aunt Iris walked up to him slowly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You’ll manage.”

 

Hopefully. He returned the sentiment, embracing the woman affectionately before giving her a kiss on the cheek. They hadn’t solved anything—probably planted more in Wally’s mind than he needed at the moment. Talking with Aunt Iris usually made him better though. “Well, enough of that. How about we—you feeling okay?”

 

A pained look crossed across Iris’s face. She placed a hand over her stomach, eyebrows furrowing together and frown curled at her lip. Uh-oh.

 

“About you exploding into guts earlier?” Wally’s face stretched with perplexity. “That’s…not going to happen right no—”

 

 _“Ooh._ ” She looped a hand around his dead one and squeezed it tightly. Instantly the redhead went from inspecting his aunt to helping her sit down.

 

“I’ll call the doctor.” Wally stretched to reach the phone and—“Wait. I don’t _know_ who the doctor is. Um. Uh—did your water break? Can we like, actually get a new one from the fridge? God I should know this, shouldn’t I—”

 

“Wally.” Iris gritted her teeth and forced a smile to her face. “I’m going to go lie down in the living room, and you’re going to bake the cookies.”

 

“You’re going to lie down,” Wally repeated, “and I’ll bake cookies. Wait—newborns don’t have _teeth._ ”

 

“They might be Braxton-Hicks contractions.”

 

He blinked. Despite the obvious look of distress on her face, Aunt Iris ruffled his hair once more and carried herself into the living room. Wally followed her, hand placed carefully on her back and the other guiding the woman to the sofa. “You…seriously want me to bake cookies.”

 

“We’ll play off the next one when it comes.” She reached into a table drawer and pulled out a timer. “If they get to around five minutes apart, we go to the hospital.”

 

“Really?” he asked her with worry.

 

“Really.” Aunt Iris lay down and ruffled his hair like he was a little kid. “I want cookies to eat.”

 

The next hour was spent with Wally worrisomely working the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder constantly, to his _completely-relaxed_ aunt in the middle of taking a nap, followed the recipe taped onto the refrigerator, and nervously paced the length of the floor. Wally stopped himself from speed-pacing or speed-doing anything out of instinct. After putting the cookies into the oven and placing a blanket over the expecting mother, he searched the master bedroom and found a suitcase filled with Aunt Iris’s clothes on the mattress.

 

Prepped and ready. One would _have_ to be if they were dating a superhero.

 

Once he had everything rounded up (and took the cookies out of the oven), Wally trekked back into the living room and winced at the grimace that fell across Aunt Iris’s face before gently shaking her awake. “Aunt Iris?”

 

The woman stirred tiredly, eyebrows contorted and a soft groan leaving her lips. “Yeah, babe?”

 

“I called Mom and Joan. They’re downtown, so they’ll meet us at the hospital.” Wally reached over to help her feet. He bit his lip, eyes falling to her protruding stomach and shifted between his tennis shoes. “Couldn’t get a hold of Dad or Uncle Barry or the kid. I’m just going to take you there myself.”

 

“Wally, I’m—”

 

“Do you really wanna risk it with two speedsters inside of you?”

 

Aunt Iris looked back to him and his panicking face, and Wally had to remind himself to breathe. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and nodded gently. “But what about my—”

 

“Bag?” Wally gestured to the suitcase on the ground. “Got it. C’mon, Aunt I, you’d be prepared for an apocalypse if you could. Probably have—look at our family history.” He tried for a playful grin and relished in the fact she laughed. “All that’s left is how to get there. I’ll try calling Barry again and hopefully both he and the kid can do a U-Turn and meet us.”

 

He’d actually walked to the house in order to clear his head. Uncle Barry and Aunt I only lived a few blocks away from his house growing up, so that didn’t make it a problem. At the moment—he didn’t have a car to take both of them. But…Wally wasn’t completely useless, despite what the doctors were insisting for him to do.

 

So screw them.

 

Wally swept Aunt Iris up in his arms with ease, dangled the suitcase steadily in one arm and fumbled into a grin. “Since he isn’t here _now_ , I guess I’ll be the one to say I’ll get you to the hospital in a flash.”

 

“That’s…very sweet of you, Wally.” Amusement teemed in her eyes and she pointed toward the kitchen. “But your uncle forgot to take the SUV with him again. The keys should be in the kitchen. Make sure you turned the oven off, too.”

 

Oh. “Okay, well. That works too.”

 

**xxx**

In less than twenty-four hours, he would have twin cousins born at Central City Hospital. Donald and Dawn. Cool. They took the long drive to Central City Hospital, where by now, Wally knew by heart. (He’d had a lot of accidents as a kid—from falling out of trees to near death incidents by squirrels.) Aunt Iris was admitted to the maternity ward, where the doctor confirmed that it was definitely “the real thing.” Once Joan and Mom arrived from their book club, elated and excited for the birth of the twins, Wally decided to make his exit.

 

Doctors and orderlies? He’d had enough of that in the past few weeks. Aunt Iris gave him a thankful look and advised Wally to get something good to eat at the hospital cafeteria. With a weak smile, Wally agreed to do so, and gave both Dad and Jay a tiny wave before heading down the hall.

 

The redhead froze when he reached the elevator—and opted to take the stairs instead. They were cold and metal—practically the opposite of pleasant as he descended down the stairs in a meandering pace.

 

Wally missed running. _A lot._

 

There wasn’t a lot of that done before his appointment at STAR Labs. Not as much as there should have been. Cheung informed him that future tests would be to check the function of his muscles. No more running for a long time—not even to see how his body was reacting. No more feeing the tightness in his calves as he pounded his feet into the ground, no more wind whistling in his ears—no more bugs slapping into his face. (He’d actually really liked that part.)

 

Quitting before this ultimatum was easy because he could always put the uniform back on. Now…he couldn’t even do that.

 

The redhead closed his eyes and let out a breath as he reached the cafeteria. The loud beep of his phone caught his attention—along with everyone else in the room when the song _Thrift Shop_ played on his phone. Oops. Sparing an apologetic look, Wally pressed it to his ear. “Barry?”

 

 _“Hey, kid. Sorry—I. Just got your call.”_ Flash’s voice exploded through—in a strangely anomalous tone.

 

Wally blinked. “No—uh. It’s fine. We’re at the hospital—”

 

_“What? Is everything okay with Iris?”_

 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I took care of everything. She’s in labor—we’re at the hospital right now.”

 

_“Aw, man. Okay—meet me downstairs. I’ll be there in a Flash.”_

“Oka—” Barry hung up the phone before Wally could finish his answer. He looked at the phone skeptically, rolled his eyes, and opted to take the elevator. Looking around the front lawn, the redhead texted his uncle. Coast is clear. 

A quick hum caught his ears, along with the familiar sight of the scarlet blur as it torpedoed through the hospital parking lot. Instead of swirling in a cyclone and changing into civilian clothes, Flash stopped directly in front of the redhead. With his uniform in tatters.

 

“Uncle B?” Wally blinked, scrutinizing his uncle from head-to-toe. Half of Flash’s cowl had been ripped off, revealing the man’s blonde hair and blackened (healing) green eye. The Flash insignia had been completely torn off, revealing a red spot on his chest. One glove had been yanked off, and both of his hero’s boots looked worn down to the seams.

 

He focused on the man’s bloodied lip, mouth dry as Barry half-heartedly pushed the ripped cowl over his eyes.

 

“I tried calling you four times while we were at the house. What—what held you up?” There barely anything _fast_ enough to land a _hit_ on the Flash let alone beat him up. Wally could feel his mind whirling to conclusions and impossibilities. “You look like _crap._ ”

 

“Glad to see you too, kid.” A smile etched across the man’s lips despite everything, and immediately dropped.

 

“ _Barry_.” Wally grabbed him by the arm to keep his attention. “I _called_ you.”

 

“I was…on a league mission. Finished it early. Was going to go home and then…” Barry frowned and pressed a hand to his head. “Boom.”

 

“ _Boom_?” The redhead’s eyebrows contorted. “What do you mean, _‘boom_ ’?”

 

“There…was another speedster on the road. He…heknockedmeout.” The man’s tone deteriorated, expression scrunching together. His jaw tightened, and all calmness seemed to leave. “He went at my _speed_ and managed to…well, do _this._ ”

 

“But…no one knows about that formula except for you, me, and Jay.” That was impossible. Wally blinked furiously and shook his head. “And after _I_ used it, you promised to take that recipe to the grave, Uncle B. How could you—how could _that_ happen?”

 

“Dunno. I mean—wait.” Barry’s eyes widened three times their size. Suddenly he gripped Wally by the shoulders, panic exploding across his face. “He ripped the emblem off my chest, Wally—told me that I wasn’t the Flash. That—he was going after _speedsters._ Oh, god— _Bart._ Whatifhe—”

 

“Barry! Barry—calm down.” Pushing the man off, the redhead could feel his heart beat twice its normal rate. He put distance between them, securely placed his hands on either side of his uncle, and jerked his head toward the door. “I’ll call Bart. We’ll figure this out. Right now—your wife’s in labor.”

 

“Right,” Uncle Barry said. He took in a deep breath and relaxed. “Right, I gotta— _oh man,_ I’ve gotta go get her suitcase—”

 

“Done.”

 

“—gotta call the family—”

 

“Done.”

 

“—filloutthepapers—”

 

“ _Done._ I even made _cookies._ ” For a moment, the younger speedster broke out of his seriousness and broke into a tiresome smile. He patted the man on the arm and pushed the Fastest Man Alive toward the door. “Uncle Barry, you’re about to be a father. Go clean up and see Aunt Iris.”

 

His old mentor’s eyes flashed appreciatively as they looked over to him. Uncle Barry drew a sharp breath, turned around, and threw his arms around the young redhead. “You’re amazing—you know that, Kid?”

 

“Erghh—yeah. But you stink.” Biting back a laugh, Wally guided the man toward the lobby. “Go. I’ll call Bart, and we’ll go from there with this speedster thing, okay?”

 

Uncle Barry looked to him hesitantly—the nodded. “Okay.”

 

Geez. Apparently there was a listening problem when it came to this family. Waiting until the man was out of sight (and hopefully into new clothes, so Barry didn’t freak out the mother-to-be), Wally pulled out his phone again and distanced himself from the hospital. He waited—one ring, two rings.

 

_“Wally?”_

“Kaldur. Uh—what are you doing with my cousin’s cell phone?”

 

_“All phone calls are intercepted by the Watchtower, unless it is considered an emergency.”_

 

Great. He must have been running things from behind. Rubbing his eyes, the redhead scrunched his face. “Since when was _that_ rule put in effect?”

 

 _“It happened while you’ve been away._ ” Something about his tone made Wally blink. _“Impulse is acting on Team Beta seeking out information about the new product LexCorp has introduced in Metropolis.”_

“I need to talk to him. Flash is pretty spooked about something—” And, well, his dad was about to be born. Wally made a face into the phone—he would never get used to that fact. A reluctant sigh passed through the phone, which did little to Wally’s temper. “Please?”

 

 _“I will patch you through._ ”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He waited a moment to hear his phone go to the comm.-link frequency, opened his mouth, and—

 

 _“You of all people should know better than to interfere during a mission._ ”

 

—never got the chance. Nightwing’s voice shot through, chilly and constructed. Wally’s fingers curled around the phone, his jaw tight in disbelief. His heart throbbed—and for the first time in five days, his best friend’s voice delved into his mind. “Sorry, _Wingster._ Family emergency.” Then, he added abruptly for Kaldur, “I was hoping for a _private_ conversation.”

 

No answer from the man upstairs. God—kill him now. Instead, his cousin interrupted. _“Uh—right here, cuzzo. All safe and sound—what’s wrong?”_ A beat passed, and less whimsical than his usual speech— _“Are you…okay?”_

“Yeah.” The redhead’s voice tensed, quick to respond before Nightwing could read their conversation. “ _You_ …okay?”

 

_“Um. Yeah. Saw you this morning, remember? Almost set your house on fire—heyyyy! That’s not funny—Diiiick, Tim’s breaking protocol—”_

“Bart. Dude—” A smile worked its way across Wally’s face. He squeezed the phone tightly and grinned. “Aunt Iris is having the babies.”

 

 _“ **What?! Seriously?! Ohmigod—**_ ” There was a _‘shhhhhh’_ in the background (making Wally roll his eyes) and suddenly Impulse’s voices softened. _“That is so_ crash _! Ohmigod, my Dad’s going to be born—”_

 

**_WOOSH._ **

****

Silence. Wally’s pulse tightened.  “Bart? Bart—”

 

_“IMPULSE!”_

Wally dropped the phone and ran. 


	7. Battle, Zoom, Responsibility, Makeup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission involved a new product produced by LexCorp. The concern was that Luthor was creating mechanical limbs acting as secondary weapons that would eventually replace the League. Recent findings in the last battle revealed the mechanical arms and legs had traces of kryptonite as a power source. Alpha’s job was to infiltrate the main facility in Metropolis, retrieve the ample amount of green kryptonite, and bring it back to the Watchtower to lock up deep in a lead vault.

The mission involved a new product produced by LexCorp. The concern was that Luthor was creating mechanical limbs acting as secondary weapons that would eventually replace the League. Recent findings in the last battle revealed the mechanical arms and legs had traces of kryptonite as a power source. Alpha’s job was to infiltrate the main facility in Metropolis, retrieve the ample amount of green kryptonite, and bring it back to the Watchtower to lock up deep in a lead vault.

 

In the beginning, the mission had gone smoothly. Robin, Impulse, Wonder Girl, and Batgirl were instructed to ‘tour’ the facility with the guide and some visiting college students. Nightwing—knowing by now Luthor probably had his face on a wanted poster in every room of the building—was to hang back in the Bioship, where they would load the contents once everything was found. He instructed them to be wary and downloaded blueprints of the building onto both Babs’s and Tim’s comps.

 

Everything was going smoothly. The four other members of Alpha were to find all of the ‘suspicious’ doors the tour guide strictly avoided. All they would show was a false cookie-cutter version of what LexCorp really did.

 

Then everything went down the toilet.

 

First off, once Alpha established a good idea of the facility, they were to retreat and come back in later hours to dispose of the kryptonite and all blueprints of their new product. Luthor was reported to be in Bialya on “diplomatic” terms with Queen Bee, and by assumption, that meant his bodyguard was with him. Then, twenty minutes into the tour, Kaldur informed Nightwing of a forwarded phone call.

 

All external calls were intercepted by the HQ. They had to be deemed important enough before they were forwarded to the intended receiver. (The rule was actually Dick’s fault once Artemis and Wally quit the team. Artemis dubbed it when Zatanna and he were stuck in the ‘honeymoon phase’ all over again when Zee became a League member. Once they were separated, inappropriate calls at _very_ inappropriate times became too lethal of a problem, the team took an embarrassing vote with majority rule.)

 

Dick let his temper get the better of him, but passed on the call as needed. He’d even muted the call in order to ignore Wally’s voice. It wasn’t until he heard the scream of—

 

_“IMPULSE!”_

—that the nineteen-year-old nearly fell out of his chair. He returned to the comm.-link, forced his way through the security cameras of the building, and spiked the microphone high. “What’s going on? _Details?_ ”

 

 _“Unexpected third party,”_ Babs responded back quickly. _“Just tackled Impulse to the ground—speculation of the source soon to come.”_

 

Security footage showed the battlefield—a lab on the fourth floor, where the tour guide and civilians shrieked in surprise; evidence that meant this wasn’t Luthor’s doing. Tables were knocked over and skewed, with a yellow figure that bulleted through the laboratory. Too fast to see. Nightwing frowned.

 

“Computer: replay the footage in super slow motion. Slow enough to capture the Flash.”

 

The screen above him changed and zoomed in on the _unexpected-third party._ What on _earth_?

 

A man in a golden yellow suit, with scarlet red wing-tipped ears and matching red boots. _Like the Flash._

What the hell.

 

 _“Batgirl to Nightwing: looks like our opponent is…is a **speedster.**_ ”

 

“Seeing the culprit right now.” Dick pushed away from his seat and ordered the ship to create a deployment hatch. He scaled down to the rooftop and shot toward the door that led down a staircase. “Engage in battle. Immobilize the third-party _perp_ and whatever you do—make sure he does not leave the—”

 

A yellow blur zipped up the stairs and shot past Nightwing with Impulse hauled over his shoulder. Dick shouted in surprise as the man trampled over him—then crashed down the flight of stairs. His face hit the cement wall, nose smashing in the coldness. Nightwing tumbled down rapidly. He clawed a step and dragged himself to his feet, then looked to the open door.

 

“— _vicinity_.” The teen scowled. “Relocate on the rooftop!”

 

Before the villain got away. Nightwing sprinted back up the stairs, rotating aches and bruises out of his joints and pulled out three batarangs. As soon as he reached their new destination, he was met with the sight of Wonder Girl’s lasso at the man’s feet.

 

A relieved grin was sported across the blonde’s face, and she tightened the grip on her rope before hovering in the sky.

 

Impulse’s face stared at the teen leader upside down, eyebrows arched in confusion and feet dangling. “I’m not sure how I feel about being a teenage-hostage. This is like—super retro.”

 

“Sorry, Imp—” Robin’s voice appeared from behind Nightwing. “That’s kind of part of the job.” Both Batgirl and he appeared from the entrance Dick had taken.

 

“Tie him up, Wonder Girl!” Nightwing’s eyes narrowed at the man, getting a better inspection in a way that the computer couldn’t. Yellow-Flash’s face was long and narrow—with the flesh beneath his cowl obscenely pale. His teeth were as yellow as his teeth, with the lightning bolt on his chest that was strategically shaped like a _‘Z.’_

 

Yellow-Flash’s lips twitched as Cassie spun around him. The rope climbed up to his knees with pleasant success—

 

—then he electrocuted Wonder Girl.

 

“ _AH!_ ”

 

The Yellow-Perp yanked the rope roughly with his good hand, and suddenly his entire body flickered with a white light. Electricity spiked above the line, incinerating it to ashes, and zapped Wonder Girl. She cried out in pain, letting go of her weapon instantly. Bart too, wriggled and screamed.

 

“Batgirl!” Nightwing shouted. “Robin!” They took three separate corners of the rooftop. Dick whipped out three explosive batarang and threw them at the Yellow-Flash’s feet. Batgirl had to the other side of the rooftop and extended a grappling hook toward the fallen Cassie.

 

The batarangs beneath the man’s feet ticked with a high-pitched beep before exploding—and the yellow speedster zipped away before the ground beneath his feet disappeared. Tim landed a hit on the man with the metal bo staff, then aimed for Yellow-Flash’s feet. Dick charged after the current boy wonder, eskrima sticks in hand, and aimed for the other end of him.

 

The Yellow-Flash jumped and bared his teeth with a malevolent scowl. “I would have _thought_ that getting a little _speedster brat_ would have been _easier_ than this.”

 

“Sorry—” Nightwing smirked and jutted a stick into the man’s torso. “He’s not for sale.”

 

“Nope,” Robin agreed, and this time he managed to trip the man with a harsh blow. “Not even housebroken yet.”

 

The Yellow Flash fell to the ground with an _oof_! and quickly, Bart wriggled out of the grip to dart behind both Boy Wonders. Dick pinned the man and pulled out handcuffs. He jutted a hand into the man’s neck to knock him out.

 

At the other end of the vicinity, Babs retrieved Cassie. Both stared at the hole that had been made to the LexCorp vicinity with wry looks. Batgirl looked up to Nightwing especially. “How necessary was it to blow up the place?”

 

“I’ll do the paperwork for it later.” Dick smiled back warily, his hands still secure over the fallen speedster’s back. He turned over to Bart, who looked anything but distraught, and bit the inside of his mouth. “You okay?”

 

Green eyes blinked by the dozen. _Just like Wally’s used to._ The young speedster fidgeted, nodding skeptically. He dropped to his knees and cupped the man’s face without shame. “Yeah, I-I just—what the…heck is this guy doing running around thinking he’s the _Flash?_ ”

 

“Watch your mouth, _boy_.” The Man’s eyes snapped open. “My name is _Zoom._ ”

 

“ _Whoa!_ ” Suddenly Dick went hurdling through the air and rammed his head across a ledge.

 

Zoom stood to his feet and tackled Bart to the ground, large hands wrapping around the smaller speedster’s neck in a bind. Impulse shouted out in pain, the back of his head smashing into the remnants of the cement roof. Cassie and Barbara bolted, all crying out his name the moment the man reanimated.

 

Tim lunged first, bo staff quickly reassembled. He raised his arms to strike— but Zoom was faster.

 

The Yellow Speedster grabbed Robin by the shirt and threw him off the roof. “ _Sorry._ No use for you.”

 

No. Nononono. “ _NO!_ ” Without even thinking, Dick rushed after his fallen partner, the blood thumping in his head. Fear wiped out every other emotion in him, and his stomach collided with the ledge. “ _ROBIN_!”

 

 Another blur caught his sight at ground level. Robin’s fallen face pulled Nightwing’s attention as the younger teen searched his pockets for his grappling hook.

 

 _Wally_ shot through the side of the roof, quickly grabbed the Boy Wonder before he could make a final descent, and scaled up the building. He landed evenly right beside the teen leader, with a scowl on his face and gaze locked at their new villain. _What the hell._

Babs and Cassie had gone back to fighting the man—one with heavy fists and the other with tools from her utility belt.

 

Dick could hardly get over his stun, watching his best friend _right in front of him_ at a _battle site._ Wally’s demeanor suddenly broke, gaze falling to the teen he’d just saved. He was dressed in a shirt, jeans, and thankfully some tennis shoes for the occasion, like he’d just run here out of nowhere.

 

“You alright?” the redhead asked.

 

Robin twitched, pushing the glasses back to his face. “Yeah—I’m. Falling on the side of a building. No big deal.”

 

Had he been in a better mood, Dick probably would have smirked. Instead, he had to force himself to get over the stun that his moron of a best friend had showed up out of nowhere and that Zoom still had Bart in a chokehold against the ground.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nightwing’s gaze narrowed under his mask. Green eyes looked back him, eyebrows twitching. “How did you get here so fast?”

 

“A thankyoufor saving Robin wouldn’t hurt you.” Wally’s tone made him wince. Apparently how they’d left each other was at the forefront of his mind too. “I’m not— _completely_ useless.” The demeanor broke, red eyebrows pinching together. “I can run.”

 

Dick’s jaw tightened. “Can you now?”

 

Suddenly Babs shouted, Zoom zapping her with electricity as he’d done with Cassie. Wonder Girl caught her as she went flying through the air, and both of them landed at the building across from them. _Lightning powers. Super strength. Speed._ Zoom wasn’t short of superpowers here. Wally sprinted across the length of the roof— _quickly_ —and collided straight into Zoom.

 

The Man in Yellow toppled over faster than he’d had with the other members of Alpha. Bart gasped for air, pushing to his feet again. He shouted his cousin’s name. “ _Wally?”_

“ _Flash_ asked me to check on you. _Not like this_ ,” the redhead shouted. He rammed a fist into Zoom’s jaw and speedily ducked as the man lunged at him. He cried out when Zoom slammed him into the ground.

 

“You’re _useless,”_ Zoom spat. “Why would I need an imposter like _you_ when I have my _grandson_ over here?”

 

 _“Grandson?”_ Bart darted back into the fight as soon as he saw his fallen cousin. Better prepared, he punched the much taller speedster in the face—three times, four times, ten times—and pushed him back. “You. Are _not._ My _Grandpa!_ ”

 

 Zoom plucked him from the ground like a flower. Bart shouted at the top of his lungs in protest, and the man only sneered. “He’s got you _brainwashed,_ doesn’t he? But you’d make a better _Thawne_ than you ever would an Allen.” He crushed Bart’s wrist and the speedster cringed. “I like the name _Kid Zoom_ , don’t you?”

 

At that moment, Dick charged back into battle as Zoom raised a hand to strike the small boy. Nightwing jabbed an electrified batarang into the man’s side and tackled Bart out of his grip. Both boys toppled over the ground as Zoom shouted in pain.

 

The Yellow Speedster ripped the weapon out of his ribcage. He scowled angrily, gaze going to the ex-Boy Wonder and the team’s new speedster. The man rushed over before either boy could blink—and Nightwing pivoted his footing to throw the boy across from him. Zoom’s hand clawed into ebony hair and he rammed Dick’s head into the ground so hard that the teen saw stars.

 

 _“Boy_ ,” Zoom scowled, “you have _no_ idea who you’re dealing with.”

 

Nightwing choked in pain. He felt wet warmth at his head as a gash throbbed over his forehead, and saw red in his vision. Gritting his teeth, he spat remnants of dirt and saliva into the man’s face. “Sorry,” he struggled to say, “but you _don’t_ mess with my team.”

 

Offending the bad guy was always fun. Because they were _always_ stupid enough to get _mad._ Zoom’s scowl stretched, with his eyebrows bulging beneath the yellow cowl. He raised a hand, electricity crackling at his flesh. Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Suddenly the large speedster was knocked out of the way—all the way to the other end of the rooftop. Dick gasped for air, feeling the oxygen return to his lungs. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wally pick the disoriented Bart from the ground. The smaller speedster thanked him quietly.

 

Then, Wally turned to him.

 

Emerald green eyes looked down to him from above, with a line of blood cascading down the redhead’s lips. Something fluttered across the redhead’s gaze—something Dick felt his mind become too hazy to decipher. _Concern, maybe?_ No—that wasn’t possible. Was mad at him.

 

The teen leader forced himself to push to his feet, and felt a warm hand press against his back. Wally crouched down to eye level and scrutinized him from head-to-toe. He opened his mouth and said something.

 

“What?” Dick murmured.

 

“I said you’re bleeding.” Again, Wally’s eyes flickered. He bit the inside of his mouth, putting as little distance between them as his hands cupped either side of Nightwing’s face. From the corner of the teen’s eyes, he could see the rest of his team gathering around him and—Wally thumbed his face, to keep his attention. His gaze softened. “You saved my cousin.”

 

Dick twitched. “You saved my little brother.”

 

“Don’t think we can carry on with the mission anymore,” Babs interrupted. She fell to her knees beside her partner and whipped out gauze before tying it firmly around his head. Taking over as second-in-command, she looked to her teammates (and Wally) and grimaced. “We should get you to the infirmary at the Watchtower. It looks bad.”

 

“I’m fine—”

 

“Dick,” she hissed—which cut off any of the macho, masculine things he intended to say to reassure her. Instead, Babs glared at him with an intensity after years of hanging out with Artemis (and because of Babs herself, really), “if you give me that bullshit, I’m cutting your head off.”

 

Silence.

 

Dick groaned softly and pressed a hand to his face. He felt someone else’s fingers tangle against his other hand.

 

“Drama queen,” Wally grumbled.

 

**xxx**

The mission was a failure. They took the Bioship all the way back to the Watchtower and the entire ride, Wally refused to let go of his best friend’s hand. (Which was fine—the redhead was sure Dick was pretty much out of it. He’d seen the lunges, the way Nightwing threw himself into the line of fire to protect Bart. And he couldn’t have been more _grateful_.)

 

It was odd. Batgirl took it upon herself to navigate the ship back to the headquarters. Wally found himself sitting in the old seat he used to have when he was still doing missions—with Bart at the other end, sitting between Cassie and Tim. They stared at the pair weirdly, and the old speedster pretended not to notice as Nightwing’s head rested carefully in his lap.

 

The battle replayed over and over in Wally’s mind, with a sour taste lodged in the back of his throat. He’d rushed to the first zeta-beam tube he could find in Central City, wound up on the other side of Metrapolis, and ran over at his top speed to find his cousin. The moment he heard the panic over Bart’s cell phone, Wally didn’t _care_ anymore. The fear slapped him hard in the face. Just—for some reason, the last thing to ever cross Wally’s mind was what lengths his best friend would go to protect Bart.

 

Well—Dick wasn’t stupid enough to take his anger out on _Bart_ because of _him._

 

That was obvious. Wally tried not to jump in surprise as he heard his best friend’s soft groan beneath him, and the curl of gloved fingers over his bare ( _dead_ ) hand.

 

The anxiety was already building in his stomach, waiting for the next spasm. But— _screw it._

 

Swallowing hard, he pushed the thought to the furthest corner of his mind. It didn’t matter what happened to _him_ now. All that mattered was _Dick._

 

An hour later, Nightwing got away with a mild concussion (with too much blood that oozed into his hair) and minor stitches, while the rest of his team seemed better off. Even heavily medicated, the teen pushed off the medical bed and somehow managed to stare at Wally’s worried face soberly.

 

Being in civvies for the first time at the Justice League headquarters made WAlly feel naked. Out of place. The team was inspected for radioactive exposure, head trauma, and other injuries that may have immobilized them during the mission. Bart’s wrist was sprained from when Zoom supposedly grabbed him, but he assured everyone he would be healed by the end of tomorrow.

 

The kid pulled Wally aside before the debriefing could happen. He looked up with big eyes beneath his yellow visor and held a serious demeanor that nearly put Batman to shame. “Are you okay?”

 

“I—yeah.” They stood at a hallway outside the main-ops room, where very few people passed by. This much, Wally knew—once business was being conducted by the league, they wanted as few people to interrupt as possible. He swallowed hard, knowing Bart’s gaze was staring straight at his fear. Quickly the redhead shook his head, pushing away all of the terrifying thoughts, and forced a smile. “I’m okay.”

 

Only, he used his speed. Fast.

 

Bart didn’t believe him for a minute. He placed a hand over Wally’s, brown eyebrows contorting together, and stared at him. “Can you feel that?”

 

 _No._ “I can’t. You _know that._ ” He just didn’t know that the numbness spread to Wally’s elbow. Shaking his head, Wally nudged his head toward the entrance to the Main-Ops room where everyone from Alpha was staring at them. “Look. Right now, that’s not the problem. You should get debriefed, and then I’ll take you to the hospital. The twins, remember?”

 

Fortunately that thought grasped the younger speedster’s attention immediately. Bart’s eyes perked up to him curiously, then he smiled. Hopefully he forgot everything for now. “Yeah. Twins. Haha— _crash._ ”

 

Without even thinking, Wally entered the room with his cousin. The team had taken a hard beating, from what Wally imagined. Three different screens were projected, with profiles of the _Zoom_ guy projected ominously. Wally hadn’t even known what the man’s name was up until ten minutes ago.

 

Kaldur spared him a look—both surprised and cautious. Wally stood taller—hoping he looked less out of place than he felt. They all waited as the seemingly-normal Nightwing debriefed the mission.

 

“Obviously we got sidetracked,” Dick announced, his voice in a soft murmur. He gestured to the projections of Zoom. “This guy. Zoom. He tried to kidnap Bart mid-mission and we went to rescue him. The damaged caused to the LexCorp building, however, is still evident. If anything—for now, I’d say we’ve delayed their manufacturing of the mechanical limbs. We’ll have to send in a different roster of people to take care of the green kryptonite. Ones they won’t recognize.”

 

“Very well then. We will shelve the mission for now.” Kaldur nodded. Projections of the LexCorp building disappeared, and they focused on the Man in Yellow. Aqualad’s eyes fell to Bart and Wally. The latter, especially. “As we’ve seen, this man has super speed powers. And from the Bioship’s cameras—lightning, as well. And reality warping.”

 

“Reality warping?” Dick cocked his head toward Wally. The redhead felt a chill run up his back.

 

“That’s how he got away.” Wally rolled his shoulders and shrugged. “Look, he may have the Flash emblem on his chest, but everyone and their mother know _way_ better than that. I’ve been Flash’s partners for years.” He made tick marks with his fingers. “No lightning. No reality-warping.”

 

“So you’ve never seen this man before?” Batgirl asked. She frowned.

 

Wally shook his head and bit the inside of his mouth. “The guy just showed up today. Flash told me that…he ripped the emblem off his chest and told him he wasn’t a real hero. That he was going after speedsters.” At that moment, he turned his head to meet Dick’s eyes. “That’s why I called.”

 

“Wait—” Bart yanked his arm. Hard. “So is Grandpa—is he okay?” Brown eyebrows pinched together, gaze wide.

 

God, this kid cared _way_ too much. Wally’s lips broke into a smile, seeing the tightness as it appeared on Bart’s face. “He’s fine, Bart. Don’t worry.” Still, that barely did anything to soothe the boy. Instead, the redhead puffed his chest out and rubbed the back of his head. “Look—if the ‘going after speedsters’ thing is any consolation…let us handle it. Flash, Impulse, and I will discuss the plan from here. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t even need to get your hands dirty.”

 

Because this was ridiculous. It was only hours ago that Flash had reported to him what he’d been through. This _Zoom_ guy appeared out of nowhere, wearing _Uncle B’s_ suit, with mismatched sickening yellow colors and a malignant grin. He was fast. Wally didn’t need another punch to the face to know that—and for whatever reason, he was going after _Bart._

 

And called Wally useless.

 

The redhead’s hands curled into fists.

 

“So what you’re saying,” Robin started, snapping the redhead out of his ministrations, “is that you’re going back in the business again?”

 

Blink. “What?” Everyone stared at him, either with confusion or suspicious eyebrows. Wally’s eyes looked up to Dick in particular, whose mouth parted slightly in surprise. He ran what he’d just said through his mind and shook his head furiously. _God._ This day was already killing him and—he _hated_ getting ultimatums. “No—I. _No._ ” The look they gave him next made Wally bite his lip. “It’s not cold and cut as you _make_ it seem.” Lie. “I can turn it on and off as I want.” Lie. “Look—I would do _anything_ to protect my family. Even if that meant putting the suit back on and killing myself.” _Not lie._

 

He looked to the corner of his eye, where Bart swallowed hard and stood taller in his spot. The small brunet tried to look strong and firm—but even that mask, Wally knew by now. The ex-hero reached over and looped an arm around the kid’s shoulders.

 

“He’s family,” he reaffirmed. Green eyes looked up and gazed hardly at a certain domino mask. His heart thrummed heavily in his chest. “And I do anything for family. Okay?”

 

No response. From anyone. Wally couldn’t help but wonder if lack of contact with his best friend worked both ways—if just like himself, Dick had a hard time with it. Not being able to sleep, having a nagging sensation in his stomach, feeling the urge to call that was immediately slapped away with anger. They stared at each other hard, and even beneath Nightwing’s white opaque lenses, Wally knew Dick was debating his words.

 

“Okay,” Dick murmured softly.

 

The rest of the debriefing went without interruption from Wally. His gaze was fixated on Dick the entire time as his best friend spoke— _taller, stronger, with an authoritative voice_ —despite obviously being on heavy medication. Dick’s tone was quiet, but commandeering as Kaldur and he addressed each other. Wally debated on leaving, knowing he was not needed—but couldn’t.

 

Today, he could have lost his best friend.

 

After the debriefing, Wally instructed Bart to go ahead and go home. The brunet had given him a look—but once he realized Wally’s attention was fixated on the ex-Boy Wonder, he babbled about nothing and disappeared, arm-in-arm with Cassie. Wally stood by, waiting until Dick finished conversing with Kaldur, and when he went over to assure Robin and Batgirl was okay.

 

Halfway through conversation, Wally walked up to the trio of bats. Discomfort coiled in his stomach, followed by guilt, and he stood parallel to his best friend. To the guy that stood at the same height, with the same build, and the same air of maturity as himself. _God, they were old._

 

Whether or not the mediation was wearing off, the redhead wasn’t sure. Dick had always been able to keep a calm demeanor, even under the most stressful of circumstances. _Exhibit A._ He ignored the looks both Batgirl and Robin were giving him—obviously, they knew something had conspired in the past few days. Instead, Wally focused on Nightwing, and the calculated stun that fell across the teen’s face.

 

“Um.” Wally stuffed his hands into his pockets and felt his shoulders hunch to his ears. “Could I…walk you home?”

 

Predictably, neither Babs nor Robin looked okay with the idea. _Of course not._ Family was protective of family. However, Nightwing waved them off, hesitantly nodding before falling into Wally’s space. They needed to talk. He turned to the pair with a weak smile and reached to rub his head—before remembering the gauze that was firmly wrapped around it. “I’ll be fine. Don’t’ worry—he doesn’t bite.”

 

Right. Taking out the little bat may have been fine—but Wally could be scared for his life when it came to Batgirl. All of Dick’s ex-girlfriends were scary. They nodded hesitantly—then disappeared through the first zetabeam tube.

 

_“ **Recognized: Batgirl; B16. Robin; B20.”**_

****

The hum of the transportation device bristled against Wally’s skin and whispered in his ears. They waited, until the light faded away from the pair, and designated the coordinates to Bludhaven.

 

The zeta-beam point from there was the backdoor to an old thrift shop that had been closed down ages ago. Wally had only used it once before—when helping Dick move into his apartment last year. The plan had gone into effect, where Kaldur infiltrated the Light through his Father, and Nightwing was promoted to leader. After that, they rarely had time to see each other.

 

And still, Wally remembered exactly where the apartment was.

 

Nightwing pressed a hand to the wall, with the transportation obviously not adjusting well with his head wound. He looked over to Wally warily, then pointed into a random direction. “You just need to follow me this w—”

 

The ex-speedster— _speedster_ scooped up his best friend. Screw it. Again.

 

Dick made a soft noise of surprise, eyes widening in accordance, but Wally only shrugged. He readjusted the weight of the boy in his arms—someone he hadn’t carried since Dick was fifteen and he was seventeen, and felt the familiar flesh against his own. Green eyes looked down, examining the tired man, and a small smile spread across his lips.

 

“Don’t worry. I know where it is.”

 

It almost felt the same. Wally felt the energy coil in his stomach, and thanked himself for _only_ _owning tennis shoes._ He sprinted down the street, with Dick’s weight falling into his own, and felt the hands knotting into the front of his shirt. Through all of the blood and the sweat of the mission, the scent of Dick’s aftershave still managed to peek through. Wally loved it.

 

They ran through the early night of Bludhaven, shooting corners and shortcutting when he could. Wally’s fingers tangled beneath taut legs, with armored flesh and utility belts digging into his sweater. Every step he took fell into cadence with his chest, and he only breathed.

 

When he looked down, he could see Dick staring straight at him—utterly tired, and devastatingly handsome. The smallest smile spread across his lips—for once, at peace. _Stupid Mister Perfect._

The run only took five minutes. Wally wished he could have stretched it out—to feel every bit of it again, with Dick against him and the smile etched in his mind for the rest of eternity. He climbed up the stairs wordlessly, and only let Dick stand to his feet when they finally reached the door.

 

For a moment, Dick only stared at him. They must have looked ridiculous—one underdressed speedster, and a battered, overdressed acrobat.

 

“Um,” the teen muttered under his breath. “Thanks.” He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a regular set of keys. Wally almost had to laugh.

 

But instead, he opened the door for Dick as soon as it was unlocked, and held the teen’s hand on the way in. The apartment was bare and wooden, with little furniture, hardly any decorations— _no pictures, no anything._ Hardly a home. But for a Boy Wonder that was on his feet and working with the team 24/7, Wally could hardly call himself surprised.

 

“Do you need anything?” he asked instantly, and they made it to the middle of the living room. “Some food? Water? You don’t plan on patrolling later tonight, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah. Wally—” Dick touched his head, the small smile curling across his lips lazily and started toward the bedroom. “I’ll sleep off the drugs and let Alfie dote on me in the morning. I’ve—I’ve had worse. You know I have.”

 

 _Yeah._ But that _never_ made Wally any less concerned. Without thinking, he reached out and coiled a hand around Dick’s own.

 

A domino mask stared back, with Nightwing’s façade, but _Dick Grayson’s_ tiredness.

 

Wally’s grip tightened and eyes fell to the head wound. _God._ “I’m sorry.”

 

“Wall—”

 

“ _No._ Dick.” Pressing a hand to his own face, the redhead couldn’t help but close his eyes. Every bit of guilt—every last _bit of it_ from the past five days that felt like eternity since the last time he’d seen his best friend swelled in his stomach and made him feel worse. “I don’t think you’re a freak. I—I know that you would _never_ use me as a pawn. When I said that, I—I was angry. You’re my best friend, Dick.”

 

His eyebrows contorted, gaze narrowing at the teen as the smile on Nightwing’s face disappeared.

 

“I trust you.” Wally’s hands tangled with Dick’s gloved one. “More than anyone. _I trust you._ ”

 

Dick’s lips pressed together. He gazed at the redhead solemnly and looked down to the hand clasped between Wally’s own. Slowly, his fingers curled against Wally’s palm. “Apology accepted.”

 

 _Really?_ The speedster cocked his head up, expression sad.

 

“I’m sorry too,” Dick whispered, and he placed his other hand firm, on Wally’s own. There was a scrunch in the other man’s expression—one he barely noticed, and he carried on, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re not…useless. You’re not heartless, Wally. You’re—anything but. You care. _A lot._ For your family, for Bart…and I shouldn’t have jumped on you so quickly. Not without an explanation.”

 

The guilt in Wally’s stomach dropped. He took in a deep breath, everything about the night of their argument coming to the front of his mind, and felt the air squeeze from his lungs. He brought Dick’s hand to his face and pressed his lips across the teen’s knuckles. “I…want to tell you—so _badly_ , and I just.”

 

Can’t. Couldn’t. Red eyebrows furrowed together, and the fear billowed in his mind. He looked back up to Dick, to his face in the dimness of the living room lights, and the small bump as darkness contorted around it.

 

“Can I take you to your room?” he whispered instead. “Let me…help you undress or something. You’re hurt. I—just want to make sure you’re okay.”

 

It was an odd request, Wally knew. It’d been a long day. Too long. The twins were being born, there was a new _problem_ , and…god. He had his best friend back. Dick’s expression morphed slightly beneath the mask, lips parted carefully—but he nodded. A sigh of relief fell from Wally’s lips.

 

They entered Dick’s room, which looked different from the rest of the apartment. Pictures decorated the walls and the nightstand, with a soft baby blue painted on the walls. A poster of the Flying Graysons was taped to one wall, with the silhouette of acrobats glowing like angels.

 

The entire walk, their hands remained together. Dick guided him to the bed, with a heavy breath drawing from his lips. Moonlight glowed from the window adjacent from them, falling into the room like a beacon. It glowed against Dick’s flesh—marred and gritty from years of this business— _this life._ Dark hair brushed into the teen’s face, still caked with blood from lack of time being able to wash it.

 

Shadows crept across the moonlit wooden floor, revealing two boys that stood parallel to each other. Watched each other. Wally’s gaze fell to the various nooks and crannies of the Nightwing suit—to the small belt loops, and the indent beneath the blue-winged bird on his chest.

 

Dick’s hands fell to the belts strapped around his hips as he fell into the mattress. Wally dropped to his knees right in front of him, pressing bare hands over gloved ones. He unwound the belt—gently, until the utility belt could be put aside on the floor—then moved onto the belt with the eskrima sticks. Through red hair, he peered up and saw his best friend stare straight back at him.

 

Wally’s hands melded around Dick’s calves and silently, he unzipped both boots and let them fall to the floor. Standing up to his feet, he replaced a hand over Dick’s left glove and inched it off his fingers. They stood close together, with Wally’s knees against Dick’s own, and breath hot against flesh.

 

All the while, that mask stared at him—white, ethereal, and glowing beneath the moonlight. _Magical._

Green eyes stared back, stars reflecting in their irises, and watched every part of the Boy Wonder. The curve of his nose. The color of his lips. The contour of that _beautiful, beautiful_ face. Wally dropped the glove.

 

And with no other thought, he kissed his best friend.

 

His lips pressed against the man across from him, and fingers melded around Dick’s sculpted face. Heat radiated in his palms, welcoming and pleasurable as he dug a knee into the mattress, and curled into the edges of ebony hair. With just as much hunger, he felt Dick kiss back, and a burn engulfed his chest— _needy_ and so _welcoming._

They climbed onto the bed, with Dick’s back pressed against the mattress and legs dangling across the surface. Wally deepened their kiss, bodies pressing together until he could feel the ex-Boy Wonder’s pulse beneath his own, and he breathed in the scent of Dick’s aftershave. Dick nibbled on his bottom lip, begging for entry—for _more._ A bare hand traced down Wally’s spine and hiked his shirt up, and the older man shivered as he felt fingers pad his flesh.

 

The kiss lasted forever, lips meshed together for what felt like eons, and yet _still not enough time_ —until they pulled away to breath. Wally’s elbows rested on either side of the teen and he gazed upon his best friend—to the flush that worked its way up Dick’s neck to his ears.

 

In that instant, the teen turned his head just slightly and pressed a hand to his own face. Fingers scraped beneath the domino mask, slowly inching it away from the old acrobat’s face until all Wally could see were long eyelashes. Gorgeous cerulean blue eyes peered up, and stared straight back into emerald green orbs.

 

Dick’s breath fell hot on Wally’s lips. They stared at each other, gazes fixated and never goading.

 

Pulling up, Wally kicked the sneakers off his feet. Dick’s eyes followed him as he pulled off his shirt and threw it to the side, so only bare flesh could be seen. Wally looked back down to the younger boy.

 

The last gloved hand reached up as the teen raised his head, and revealed the zipper to his uniform. Dick placed a hand over the redhead’s and slowly guided it down to his heartbeat.

 

Wally gave him one more look—careful, with a smile that was matched in the dark.

 

He kissed the flush down Dick’s neck, pressing his lips to the old Boy Wonder’s pulse, and carried on with every soft moan.

 


	8. Anxiety, Robin, Direction, Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain. Pain. Pain.
> 
>  
> 
> Pain. Pain.
> 
>  
> 
> Pain. Pain. Pain, pain, painpain—
> 
>  
> 
> Shit.

_Pain. Pain. Pain._

_Pain. Pain._

_Pain. Pain. Pain, pain, painpain—_

**_Shit._ **

****

Wally woke up in a fright, doused head to toe in sweat. He gasped for air, green eyes widening three times their size, clutched his dead arm protectively—and waited. His pulse beat harshly at his neck and he forced himself to breathe—to suck in as much air as he could, to alleviate the throbbing in his head. The sight before him was fuzzy, taking several heartbeats before he could see the space of the room. Blood pumped fire beneath his skin.

 

He waited.

 

No shock.

 

Light filtered through the nearby window, beaming through the pastel orange curtains and crept upon the wooden floor. A quiet moan pushed through the silence and the hum of the A/C filled the room until a gush of cold air bristled against his bare flesh.

 

Looking around, Wally let out the breath he’d been holding and let his body collapse. The form buried in the blankets came to his attention. Followed by his best friend, whose face was buried at his side. The redhead blinked, and slowly he shrunk to observe that sleeping face.

 

Dick’s alabaster flesh glowed evangelically, from his face down to the unconcealed flesh as their shared duvet fell down his back. Ebony hair was thick—messy, sweaty, and still caked with bits of brown and black blood from the festivities before. Wally’s eyes traced the scars that marred pale skin, marked by little dents and long fading-red channels that were often hidden beneath dark armor. He brushed away the hair matted against the hero’s forehead, and ran a thumb across the most recent bump on the back of Dick’s head.

 

His best friend shivered, face crinkling in discomfort.

 

Letting out a shallow breath, Wally pushed the hair out of his own eyes. He put distance between them—and watched as the slumbering old acrobat reached over to bury his face in the pillow Wally’d slept on. _Wow._ Wally closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for sleep to disappear from his system.

 

Cold air hit him in… _usually unmentionable places_ as he slid out of the bed and tested his feet. His hand fisted the mattress, one leg collapsed beneath him, and he bit back the instinctive pained cry before it could leave his mouth. Steady. Breathe. Steady.

 

Wally waited until he saw his toes curl into the wooden floor. His dead arm dangled at his side, getting no use unless he forced the effort in his muscles to move it. The speedster sucked in a breath, feeling the beginnings of a migraine surface in his temples, and squeezed his eyes shut. Dead arm, dead leg.

 

Looks like the _dead leg_ thing was getting permanent though.

 

Another sigh left his lips and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Wally plucked the first pair of boxers he could find on the ground and dressed himself. He tested out the fingers of his dead hand, attempting to wiggle them as best he could. Once his hand confirmed he could do the _Princess Wave,_ his mind nagged him for coffee and forced the old speedster into the kitchen.

 

It wasn’t that he’d lost all the feeling in his limbs. Yet. The tingle started when he was eighteen, with the tips of his fingers. It was like they’d fallen asleep from a lack of blood flow. Wally managed the ‘falling asleep’ sensation through his years being inoperative, but the events in the past year had sped up the numbness. Wally could still move his arms and operate all of his body parts. But—wiggling his fingers, curling his hand into fists—it took effort. More, each day, and four times that effort after a spasm. Yet now the tips of his fingers went from falling asleep to lacking sensation at all.

 

He didn’t let it put him down, when his hands curled over Dick’s body last night, however. Wally’d pushed it to the back of his mind when every bit of Dick’s bare skin was beneath his own, and focused on the good of it all. For last night to work, he let himself pretend he wasn’t _Wallace Rudolph West, Slowest Decaying Corpse Ever._

And—the fact he’d gotten any sleep at all was astonishing.

 

Because—he thought to himself, glaring at his dead hand as it tried to curl around the coffee pot handle—from this point on, he was a ticking time bomb. Wally had entered the fight with Zoom late, but there was no villain that ever pushed him to full throttle in a matter of seconds. Barry wasn’t kidding when he said this guy was killer.

 

“Dammit.” Wally wasn’t even looking, when he realized he’d poured scalding hot coffee on his hand instead of a cup. He laid out two mugs and shook the coffee pot. Okay—boiling water. Check. Everything else. _How_ _the_ _hell did you open this thing?_ Actually—who had a coffee machine with a _Whipped Cream Smiley Face_ option?

 

Dick fucking Grayson. That was who.

 

The coffee maker probably cost more than Wally’s house.

 

That thought in mind, Wally stopped himself from bursting in a fit of snickers. He started a new brew of coffee before running his hand in cold water and wiped his hands just as the doorbell rang. The apartment seemed smaller than the night before when he’d whisked Nightwing in—and emptier. Dick’s room, if he was right, was the only place that had any semblance of _home_.

 

Yet—then again, Wally thought as he meandered toward the door—this was the kid who could have probably made a home out of the vent system back at the cave if he wanted to.

 

Tim Drake stared back at him when the redhead answered the door. Dressed in civilian clothing—some long pants and a red jacket that looked easy to maneuver in. He lacked the usual sunglasses that all the Bats seemed intent on wearing—and in one flicker, the surprise showed on his face.

 

Wally responded by scratching his hip. “Hi. Robin?”

 

He only knew the teen by name alone—other than yesterday, when he sort of saved the guy. Even Jason Todd, Wally only knew a few short months until the new guy who’d taken on the first Robin’s mantle had exploded. And—well. No matter how harshly Dick and he argued, Wally knew better than to bring Todd up in an argument. Tim Drake was tall and gangly—probably in that awkward growth spurt that the redhead was glad he no longer had to deal with. His gaze was sharp—sharper than Dick’s had ever been when they were kids. That in itself was pretty disturbing. His smile was precise.

 

If you could call that a smile. Actually—the look Drake was giving him reminded the redhead he was dressed in his own (questionable) boxers.

 

“Hi,” Tim managed finally, voice full of tentative deadpan.

 

“It’s—he’s asleep right now.” Wally felt his cheeks bloom red. He stretched the door wide, ignoring the guarded look that the new Boy Wonder instinctively gave him, and made a mental note to answer the door in a sweatshirt next time. “You old enough to drink coffee?”

 

“I’m fourteen.”

 

“Oh. Then—duh, of course.” He unceremoniously shut the door and ushered the teenager to a stool. With his back turned, Wally made an effort to hide his discomfort, then poured the fresh coffee into the cup. “You know how to work the machine?”

 

“Press the red button for the smiley faces. Green one for blue smiley faces.”

 

“Uh. Kay.”

 

This was more awkward than the time Bart had barged in on him jacking off. And that was _three days ago._ Drake sat contently at the other end of the counter with the coffee mug nestled between his hands. He’d gotten up twice, easily maneuvering the machine to shut it off before it could explode, then to get the half-n-half out of the fridge. Wally appreciated a guy who liked to use half-n-half. More than once, Drake’s gaze went to the bedroom where Dick had yet to pop his head out.

 

When it happened the fourth time while Wally worked the kitchen, he felt the need to point it out. The man, still dressed in only his boxers, leaned across the counter and downed half of his mug. There wasn’t much caffeine could do with his high metabolism, but it was a nice, _healthy_ jolt to wake him up. “Yesterday…after the Zoom fiasco, Dick called you his little brother.”

 

For once, the calculative mask broke across Drake’s face. He looked over to Wally, surprised, with eyebrows quirked in the air. Suddenly his cheeks glowed a sweet shade of red—which was definitely a contrast from Mister Mean and Scary. Drake looked back up, wary, and sipped the rest of his drink. “We…have a close relationship. I’m an only child. Dick’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big brother anyway  and—well. Given I inherited the title of Robin from him, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“He speaks highly of you.” Wally got the joy out of watching Drake perk again—clearly not used to the compliments. An inch of a smile fell across his face for the first time that morning. “Dick’s…not very good about letting people get close to him. Once they do, he gets very attached. Trust me on this. No matter how far you cross the line he’s never going to turn his back on you. His loyalty’s his best and worst quality.” If Dick and Wally himself were anything to go on. 

 

He waited for the young teen to swallow the compliment and wondered if it’d been that difficult back when he was fourteen. Dick and he—essentially—screwed around for most of their childhood. And instead of keeping that as part of their friendship as they got older, there were boundaries that’d been made; ones that had to be forcefully torn away for them to get what they had back. The first day had been hard after Artemis left. Then—after everything with _Blush,_ it was like their comfort zones around each other never existed; like there were boundaries that could separate _countries_.

 

So as of right now, they’d gone from screwing around to screwing. _Go figure._ (Wally was still wondering why his brain hadn’t shut down into complete shock just yet.)

 

“Thanks,” Drake— _Tim_ said quietly. The kid was definitely calmer than Bart was. Evidently Mister Perfect got all of the _sane_ people. “So you two made up?”

 

“What gave you that impression?”

 

The young teenager gave him another hard look that was definitely worthy of the Boy Wonder. He gestured to Wally as a whole and—

 

“Oh. Uh. That’s—well, that was random. I mean—he and I—that, er. _That_ was random.” Heat exploded in the redhead’s cheeks and he pulled a knot out of his hair. Wally’s gaze narrowed and he ran the night through his head again. “This isn’t—we’re not—you don’t know, I could have slept on the couch.”

 

“Those are his boxers.”

 

“How would you even _know_ that?” For a moment the speedster’s voice spiked like he was thirteen again. And in that span of time, the door to Dick’s room creaked open—with a groggy Dick who stumbled out of the room and faintly reminded Wally of the morning all those weeks ago, when Dick had looked distraught. He resisted the urge to rush over and make sure his best friend was okay.

 

Green eyes met blue, and anything Wally was prepared to say disappeared from his mind. He felt the heat simmer in his cheeks until they were smoking.

 

“So,” Tim said between them to break their silence, and a devilish little twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “Who’s the booty call?”  

 

Evidently Dick really did have a soft spot for the new guy. A drowsy smile curled across his face and he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He barely said a word, voice clearly still blocked from waking up only moments ago, and yet both Boy Wonders converged on each other. Tim slid off the stool and both teenagers locked themselves in a conversation that was hard to hear.

 

Wally waited, watching the way Tim seemed to comfortably talk with Dick, and how his best friend managed to do the same. There was a trust there—he hadn’t doubted that. Dick shed of his mask as an authoritative leader with the dutiful front and looked to the younger teenager as a responsible mentor—and big brother. There was still tension in his eyes—something Wally decided was probably for he himself—but the way Dick looked to the younger boy was like when they were back at IHOP. Just the mere thought of ‘Timmy’ made Dick shed layers. Clearly.

 

He hadn’t missed the horrified look Nightwing had yesterday, when Robin was tossed off the side of LexCorp.

 

Finally, Tim and Dick ceased. Who would have thought that his best friend—that _little **shit**_ Boy Wonder would reach over and ruffle his successor’s hair. Tim backed away and observed him carefully.

 

“So you’re alright?”

 

“I bounce back pretty quickly,” Dick assured. He met eyes with Wally, who at that point had finished his coffee and now had a brown mustache with whip cream bits to prove it. The redhead instinctively fidgeted.

 

“You should go hang out with Bart. See if that little spaz ball got himself into trouble.” Wally waved his hand idly to catch both boys’ attention. “Keep the tradition alive. You know, like your _bro_ and me.”

 

“Yeah.” Tim’s lips pursed and he crossed his arms, the subtle amusement coming to his face. “But I think we have a simpler relationship.”

 

_Ain’t that the truth._

Had it been Bart that said it, Wally probably would have threatened to kick the kid out of his house. Then there would have been a preceding chase where he’d get the little brat into a headlock. Instead, Dick offered a wary, furtive glance that let Wally know there was something on his mind, and they said their goodbyes. Tim glanced toward Wally’s direction—and his lack of clothes, making the speedster feel out of place all over _again_ , before he left. Dick’s eyes remained on his successor until the door _clicked_ shut, and Tim was gone.

 

After that, they were alone. Wally quickly reached for clean mug and poured the last bit of coffee for his best friend. He placed it on the counter for Dick.

 

An ebony eyebrow arched in the air with amusement. “You figured out how to get the smiley faces working?”

 

“Tim had to show me.” Wally reached over for the carton of half-n-half, which by now had been gulped dry. He couldn’t help but wince. Dick grimaced  as the teen tried to sit down. Wally hoped he wasn’t red head to toe. “You’re okay, right? Your head?”

 

There was a twitch. Dick, just like Tim, downed part of the drink and held the coffee mug in a similar way. Wally bit back a smile. Instead, the teen looked back to him and knotted a hand in his hair with a grimace. “Head…pounding. Nothing tragic though. I’ll manage. God, I need a shower.”

 

“Great.” Gulp. “And…the rest of you?”

 

That managed to get a puzzled look. Wally pretended Dick wasn’t sitting across him, wearing _his_ red boxers. Or the fact they drooped so low that he could see tufts of dark hair poke out. Dick’s nose wrinkled. He pushed the hair out of his face and snorted. “I’ll manage, Wally.”

 

“O…Okay.” Though Wally couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t done it right last night. Most of it was a blur anyway—an intensely hot blur, that probably wasn’t appropriate for someone that was in a concussive state. There was still the way Dick looked at him—watching his every move with a tight gaze and a smile that wouldn’t reach his eyes.

 

Oh shit.

 

“That…was your first time, wasn’t it?” The gears in Wally’s brain rusted over. He shifted between his feet, feeling the numbness in his dead leg, and stared at the teen dumbly. _Gears. Destroyed. Not moving anymore. Oh, **god.**_ “I’m the biggest jerk in the world.”

“Wally—”

 

“Oh my god.” The redhead pressed a hand to his face and buzzed on his feet. He darted toward the door—then the kitchen—then the fridge—then the couch—then—stopped. “I should have gotten you flowers. And candles. God, and you were _bloody_ —did we even use lube? Oh my god. Biggest Jerk. In the world.”

 

“ _Wally._ ” Dick slapped him over the head.

 

“Ow!”

 

“You think I would be dumb enough to wait all this time so I could lose my virginity to you?” Dick shut his eyes grumpily, voice falling into irritable vibrato. He rubbed his temples and shook his head. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

Ouch. Wally blinked and stared at the teen in front of him. He twitched. “It…was good for you at least, right?”

 

“What?” the teen fidgeted, looking at him with a little more energy. Gaze softening, Dick flushed an odd shade of red and looked everywhere but his best friend’s eyes. “Of course. I mean. Y-yeah, I guess. You?”

 

Well. “Yeah.” Wally felt himself blush from head to toe. He tapped his fingers on the marble counter. “I didn’t know you could, uh. D-Do that thing with your tongue.”

 

“You noticed?” Oh. So Dick was definitely aware of everything that had gone one last night. A crooked smirk crossed his face and he rubbed his neck. “Do you…always…vibrate?”

 

Blink. “Did I?” Blink, blink. Wally looked everywhere but the teen’s face. “Don’t think I ever did. I mean, Arty never—” Oh shit. He made himself stop talking—thinking, before that thought could be completed in his mind. Her name hit him like cold water—and everything he’d talked about with Aunt Iris came back to mind. About…moving on, about _not being able to_ , and—

 

Oh, god.

 

Even the look Dick gave him seemed to sober him up a bit. The teen across from him held an odd look—one that Wally couldn’t really place.

 

He felt his heart drop into his stomach, then leaned back from the counter top. Suddenly his mind whirred around the events that lead from Point A to Point B. And he didn’t like what he was seeing. Just yesterday, he was talking about his plans of _engagement_ with his girlfriend of five years. Just a few _weeks_ ago, they’d broken up.

 

Oh _god._

 

 The redhead pressed a hand to his face, a strained sigh coming from his lips, and curled his other hand into a fist.

 

Silence. He couldn’t figure out what the hell to say.

 

“Wally?” Dick asked after what felt like an eternity. It made Wally’s pulse heighten.

 

“This…” Red eyebrows pinched together painfully. “This was a onetime thing, right? You and me?”

 

No response. Looking between his fingers, he saw the look the ex-Boy Wonder gave him—calculative, and very much Batman-like. It radiated with the cautiousness that Dick had spared him through the entire morning, and seemed to pack twice the punch, with several layers that had taken the redhead _years_ to unravel when they were younger. Wally could barely meet those eyes.

 

“Didn’t think otherwise,” the teen finally whispered. He rubbed his head again.

 

“G…Good,” Wally sputtered, and suddenly he found interest in the type of material his (Dick’s) boxers were made of. He forced himself to look the other way, shoulders hunching to his ears and, went about the kitchen, and scratched his head. “You—keep doing that. Rubbing your head. Any aspirin?’

 

“Leftmost cabinet, bottom shelf.”

 

“Okay.” He did just that and pulled the small container off the shelf, then went through the sink to draw water. Without thinking, Wally forced himself to look up into hesitant orbs of his _best_ friend in the world and still couldn’t help but feel like the scum at the bottom of someone’s shoe.

 

Dick hadn’t moved from his spot since he sat down. His gaze was blocked, ebony eyebrows pinched together thoughtfully, and hand around his mug. Wally had trouble relating the image of this man—tall, broad, handsome, and every bit as loyal as he’d told Tim Drake—to the little eleven-year-old boy he met nearly eight years ago. And then—well, he could. Which made him feel worse than scum.

 

“You…really okay?” the redhead asked weakly, nearly begging for an answer. He placed the cup of water on the counter, then exited the kitchen to meet the younger boy, and placed a hand over Dick’s, with the other one reaching up to push the hair out of Dick’s face.

 

His numb fingers cracked—and suddenly locked together before he could. Wally spared that hand a mournful look before pulling away altogether, to put both hands behind his back.

 

All the while, Dick looked to him tiresomely. His brow twitched and lips broke into a frown, then he yanked the cup of water and aspirin toward himself. “I’m fine.”

 

“Then—”

 

“Don’t treat me like I’m a _kid_ in all of this, Wally.” Dick’s voice heightened tightly, causing the redhead to cringe once more. “I had just as much to do with it as you did last night. _Trust me._ You didn’t go Mister Bad Touch on me. I’m _nineteen_ , for god’s sake.”

 

Flinch. Worse than being worse than scum. Wally pulled away reluctanlty, with his hands hooked together behind him. His jaw tightened, gaze narrowing at the young teen, and he held his breath. “Yeah, but…I’m still your best friend, god willing.” Green eyes flickered pleadingly and he raised a hand—his _good_ hand to melt into the contour of his best friend’s face. “It’s my job to make sure you’re okay. And…to be there, when you’re not okay.”

 

The teen’s eyes followed him cautiously.

 

“C’mon,” Wally’s voice strained. “Please?”

 

He waited to see if Dick would react to him. Long eyelashes fell, gaze disappearing for just a moment. The hero seethed as he readjusted in his seat, and his fingers brushed against the redhead’s own as he grabbed Wally’s hand. Their touches tingled. “This…may be a one time thing for us—” Wally winced. “—but. If it’s just a meaningless _fling_ , then why are you so worried about it? About us?”

 

Dick pushed his hand away and scooted just slightly to the left of the redhead to put distance between them.

 

“It’s…you and me, Wally. But I—we have too much back story. You _know_ that. So…what would you call this? _Is_ there something that’s a _this_ between us?”

 

Oh.

 

Uh.

 

He put up that _‘Don’t-Give-Me-Shit’_ face that made Wally squirm.

 

“I…I mean…” The redhead scratched an itch and felt the thoughts stand still in his head. The mole on his toe was less nerve-racking than this. Hell— _anything_ was less nerve-racking. “Th…there isn’t exactly—” How was he supposed to answer that? The path from Point A to Point B was fuzzy. Incredibly fuzzy. The irrevocable tension between them declared that _‘no’_ wasn’t the right answer.

 

And Dick looked at him in a new way—one that Wally would have killed for when they were younger. The hidden layer in his gaze that put things off—like that kiss they’d shared all those years ago after stopping some dumb college kids. He was dating Artemis, Robin was dating Zatanna. It wasn’t the right time. Except for now—like, when he’d described to Aunt Iris before he took her to the hospital—

 

Oh shit.

 

Hospital.

 

 _“Oh_ ,” Wally said loudly, and his eyes doubled twice their usual size. “Oh no—oh, _crap._ ”

 

Dick jumped in surprise as Wally burst through the room—and stood to his feet. “Dude—?”

 

Wally yanked him by the arm toward the bedroom. “Comewithme.”

 

**xxx**

He’d woken up this morning to an empty bed. That was a slap in the face. Waking up again to an empty apartment, finding Wally on the couch again—probably would have hurt. When he managed to stand on his feet (which wasn’t _terribly_ hard, but the beating he took yesterday coupled with a few rounds of sex made his entire body sore), Dick found their clothes strewn across the ground and a pair of red boxers that Dick knew for sure wasn’t his own and saw both Tim and Wally in the kitchen—he had a little more hope.

 

 Wally declared everything that happened last night was a one-time thing. Second slap to the face. However—given how Dick’s life worked and the mechanics behind it, he forced himself not to care. Even if it did hurt. A lot.

 

His heart drowned in misery, with the third and final slap to the face:

 

 “Dammit.” Wally grumbled as they stepped out of the zeta-beam point in Central City. He pushed a hand through damp hair, having showered and borrowed a spare change of Dick’s clothes before they took the trip. Eying the busy street with a troubled look, Wally turned back to the confused teen. “We’ll have to walk back to my parents’ place and pick up my mom’s car, I think. She and dad probably carpooled to get to the hospital. We came during rush hour.”

 

Dick scratched his own head in confusion, a frown fumbling across his lips. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just ran there?”

 

The look Wally gave him next nearly knocked him off his feet. Green eyes stared at him peculiarly as though he’d grown a third eye, lips tightening into a straight line before he shook his head. “You’re not serious, are you?”

 

The teen felt irritation coil in his stomach. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Because that’s—” The redhead fidgeted and he shook his head dutifully. “It’s. Never mind.”

 

“What do you mean by—?”

 

“C’mon.” For a moment it seemed as though Wally’s face had morphed with fear. Instead, the elder man fumbled between both his feet and yanked Dick by the hand down an alleyway. “My house is about two blocks for here. I told the ‘rents we’d show up ASAP. The babies are definitely born.”

 

—that. Dick’s brain stopped short and he stared at the hand that had a loose grip around his wrist as they ran. The hold was cold and stiff, easy for him to get out of as needed. As Wally “ran” at a human pace, he faltered on his left foot before running on his right.

 

That wasn’t how Kid Flash ran.

 

The teen blinked, attention locked on that particular fact. Before he could vocalize this ministration, Dick felt himself being dragged further. One wouldn’t guess that Wally actually remembered how to run at a human pace, dodging people as he did so. They made it to the West Residence in a matter of minutes.

 

Dick walked through the house while Wally searched the kitchen drawers for his mother’s car keys. Walls were decorated with the family’s pictures—from Wally as a little baby all the way to his high school graduation, which felt like eons ago. On the table next to the couch was a loving picture of Artemis and Wally, kissing and embracing after Central City High’s Senior Prom. In an adjacent frame was a picture of Wally and himself.

 

Right after they’d met, when Kid Flash was dumb enough to run into a wall. More than once. Two goofy adolescent boys stared back at him, with Kid Flash’s nose having been readjusted with medical tape. Their smiles stretched from cheek-to-cheek, with the goofy laughter echoing in the nineteen-year-old’s ears.

 

Wally came out of the kitchen, dangling a set of keys with a miniature mug that said _‘World’s Best Mom’_ in cursive.

 

He stared at Dick oddly. “You stalking my childhood?”

 

“Your parents have a photo of me and you together?” Dick gestured to the little eleven-year-old and thirteen-year-old boys in the picture. He fumbled with the frame, feeling a chin rest over his shoulder before Wally snatched it out of his hand.

 

“Well—yeah, man.” Wally eyed him with amusement and set the photo down. “They adore you as much as they adore Artemis. Apparently you _instilled responsibility_ and _common sense_ into me or something. Whatever—they didn’t realize you were mildly psychotic.”

 

“Says the guy that willingly got _struck by lightning._ ” A smirk curled across Dick’s lips and he shot the guy a wry look. A sudden flicker of doubt flashed across his best friend’s face—one that would have been too quick see if he didn’t know the guy so well. Dick searched for the apprehension that suddenly disappeared. Wally’s personality had been disjointed all morning. Twitchy.

 

 _For obvious reasons._ Dick had asked a question back at his apartment and since then, Wally was using this as a lame excuse to avoid the question. Pushing the thought away, the redhead placed distance between them and walked toward the garage. (Dick internally groaned—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at the West Household, but he remembered everything as though they’d been here yesterday.)

 

“Um,” Wally started quietly as he opened the door, “Thanks. For coming with me, I mean.”

 

“You threw me into the bathroom. Then shouted _twins_ at the top of your lungs before shutting the door.”

 

“I’m really sentimental, aren’t I?” The previous look wiped away from the redhead’s face, replaced by a nervous smirk.

 

“Maybe.” Dick wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they entered a garage—probably anything but a dapper Volkswagen Beetle. He twitched as Wally, unfazed, hopped into the car and started the engine—then sat in the passenger’s seat, hoping the odd look on his face wasn’t too obvious. Admittedly, _Wally West_ and _Cars_ still wasn’t a sentence he was used to. Had he ever mentioned that at the Watchtower, he was convinced it would conjure a few laughs.

 

A minute passed. Dick snapped out of his thoughts as he realized nothing had been said—and noticed Wally staring intently at his hand as it awkwardly clinched the steering wheel. “You…okay?”

 

“What?” Wally responded roughly, voice loud. Dick flinched. “Yeah—I—” The redhead stuffed the said hand to the ground and focused on his other one. “I’m good.”

 

The ex-Boy Wonder’s followed down the length of Wally’s hidden arm and he frowned suspiciously. “You sure?”

 

“ _Yeah._ ” Wally shook his head. “Fine. Seriously.”

 

“O…kay.”

 

This entire morning could have started better. The discomfort had been bubbling in his stomach since waking up without another person beside him. _The guy that he…_ A voice nagged him at the back of his mind, telling him to get out. _Now._ It’d gone from an interesting night—Wally, saving Tim, carrying _him_ home, apologizing… _kissing_ —to Dick sitting next to a guy he was hopelessly in love with and doing the exact opposite. Tim hadn’t been enthusiastic about finding Wally in the apartment when he came over.

 

However, given how the younger teen had been doting on him in the past week, Dick knew he should have seen it coming. He gave Dick a hard look that usually confirmed the first Robin had gone insane. Which—in their business, happened often.

 

Without putting forth effort, the teen found himself analyzing every last bit of Wally’s behavior since his breakup with Artemis. Wally’s personality as of late had been hard to define—which, Dick knew by now, was why it was so disturbing.

 

Wally’d been cranky, the moment they set eyes on each other on the first day.

 

He’d been chipper in the morning, after knocking out on the couch and as far away from his bed as possible—with an _excuse._

Then a week without contact—with the tagline, _“I wanted to be someone other than Wally West for the night.”_

Clubbing. Wanting to meet a new girl.

 

Running away.

 

Because—despite how badly that argument had ended, Dick knew that Wally was hiding something. It’d been like the redhead had said earlier, back in Bludhaven—they were best friends. Best friends stood by each other to make sure they were okay—and to be there when they weren’t.

 

What had it been—that Wally had told him last night?

 

Dick pushed through his own hair. Glancing the redhead’s way he saw the somber look in emerald green eyes and a mask of worry that threw out everything else. They went the entire ride without saying a word to each other. Right now, Wally wasn’t even trying to hide his discomfort. Or—Dick just knew how to read his best friend. _Things like that were mutual._

They pulled into a parking garage near the hospital. Wally stopped the car, unbuckled his seat belt and looked over to him thoughtfully. “Think we have time to run to the gift shop?”

 

“ _You._ Asking about time.” Though the look Wally gave him next only made Dick cross his arms. He mimicked the speedster’s— _ex_ -speedster’s motions and pulled him out of the car. “So the twins are born?”

 

Wally clicked the beeper to his car keys and spared him one more look. This one teemed in confusion. “Well—yeah. Didn’t you hear me on the phone with B yesterday?”

 

“No.” Dick’s expression tightened cautiously and he frowned. “Despite what you think, I don’t monitor your every move. It’s a violation of your privacy and our friendship.”

 

“Oh.” The redhead blinked, falling silent in that moment. “You know, I meant what I said last night.” His face twisted reluctantly and he tried for a smile, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “I mean—uh, _before_ everything. The apology and stuff. I—I trust you. A lot.”

 

“I…” Dick bit his lip. “Thanks.”

 

His best friend offered a smile to alleviate his worry for the rest of the day. They stopped quickly by the gift shop, where Wally opted for two teddy bears dressed in red—with letters stitched into them that said, _Baby’s First Flash_ and they made their way to the maternity wing to greet the rest of the family. Dick hadn’t been sure what he was expecting—

 

The moment they stepped out of the elevator into the waiting room, both Rudy West and Jay Garrick greeted them with smiles. Wally’s mouth split into a happy grin that was usually reserved for his family and whipped out both teddy bears.

 

“A boy and a girl,” Rudy confirmed.

 

“No surprise there. _Spoilers._ ” Wally snickered and eyed Jay mischievously. “Bart can’t keep his mouth shut. Not on the little things.”

 

Rudy, the good man he was, gave his son a hearty look and shook his head. “We pretend to be surprised anyway.”

 

“You know it.” The redhead laughed again and started down the hall with an eager look akin to a child’s. His smile stretched from cheek to cheek and—he even jumped, with excitement. “Can I go see them?”

 

“Your mother and Joan are already in the room, son.” Jay patted him on the back good-naturedly and jerked his head in the designated direction. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

 

“Good.” And in an instant, the young adult turned his head to meet eyes with his best friend. Dick, who’d kept his mouth shut through the immediate exchange, blinked as Wally wrapped a hand around his wrist once again and began dragging him toward the room. “C’mon.”

 

“I’m—coming.” Dick fidgeted, wriggling his hand out of the speedster’s grip. His stomach flopped, an odd sensation bubbling in his chest. He hadn’t missed the way both Rudy and Jay looked at him with curious expressions—one that made the ex-Boy Wonder blink in confusion. The adults followed after them, though their excitement evidently was not on par with Wally’s.

 

Bart was sitting on the bed with Iris West, when they finally got to the room. Barry stood to the side, watching as both his grandson and wife held his newborn children with all the affection in the world. Bart was mesmerized.

 

Everyone in the room looked up whenever the two new men entered. Iris particularly, gave Dick a warm smile. Mary West squealed, hands clasping together enthusiastically, and she greeted her son sternly. “The most important day of your aunt’s life and you don’t show up until a day later?”

 

“Hey—I’m the one who drove her here.” Wally grinned like an idiot and leaned over for his mother to kiss him on the cheek. Mary turned over to Dick—then kissed him, too.

 

The ex-Boy Wonder—suddenly feeling like a _Bat_ in a room full of Flashes, could only look down to her. His cheeks warmed pink and she smiled. “Um…hi.”

 

“Glad you could join us, dear. I’d be _angry_ at my son, but if he managed to fish _you_ out of the busy life to bring you here,” she sucked in a heavy breath for air, and inspected him approvingly, “then I suppose I can’t be too angry at him. Does this mean you two made up?”

 

“Uh…” He realized her gaze was fixated on their interlaced hands. The teen looked in Wally’s direction, who rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘ _she’s crazy.’_ Without a second thought, they loosed grips and parted. Dick tucked his hands beneath his arms and offered his own, hesitant smile. “Yeah. We’re good now.”

 

 _“Good,”_ her tone brightened and she turned back to her son. “He can be a real idiot sometimes. Thanks for keeping him in line, Richard.”

 

Dick snorted.

 

 _“Yeah, yeah_ , he’s like the shining light at the end of the tunnel or something.” Wally rolled his eyes once more and waved a hand in their faces to get their attention. He broke into another grin and turned to his idling aunt and uncle with excitement. “Can I hold them?”

 

“You can hold Dad!” Bart hopped off the bed, with the baby wrapped in a blue blanket still in his grip. Both Barry and Iris gasped—but the brunet only beamed. He walked around the room to meet his cousin and stood to the tip of his toes. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

 

“Very.” Green eyes— _Wally’s_ green eyes—lit up with excitement. He bowed over and extended his arms. Carefully, the baby was placed in his grasp—with Bart maneuvering both of the elder (ex)speedster’s arms until the baby was nestled tightly in his grip.

 

Dick twitched. _Weird._

Even then, Bart’s hands rested on the redhead’s forearms. His demeanor broke—only for a second—but returned to a smile as he realized Wally had a grip on him. Dick took the chance to meet his best friend and get a better look of his face. He wasn’t disappointed.

 

Wally’s demeanor glowed with all the adoration in the world. He looked down to the newborn in his arms with a large, eloquent smile and a gaze with stars in his eyes. Wow. “He’s so wrinkly.”

 

“He poops a lot,” Barry mused wryly. “Their names are Donald and Dawn. You know—twinsy names.”

 

“Clever,” Wally quipped back. He matched the blonde’s demeanor and turned over to his aunt. She looked weary, but the overall tact and amusement remained apparent in her eyes. No doubt, she was where the man got most of his sense of humor. “So did you name him or did Bart?”

 

“We like to think of it as fifty-fifty.” Iris West-Allen shrugged tiresomely and matched smiles with her future-grandson. “Semantics.”

 

“Semantics,” Wally repeated. He laughed.

 

Clearly, this was Dick’s cue to leave. He smiled at the scene—watching as the entire Flash Family circled around the newborn twins and the new parents with much enthusiasm, and felt a pang in his chest. All Wally really needed him for was to get him here. And—even then, Wally’d done the driving.

 

No running, no thought of ever putting that uniform on ever again. _Who was Dick kidding_?

 

But—this was the part of Wally Dick knew he couldn’t ever criticize. The guy loved his family. The ex-acrobat turned around to leave, hopefully to make a silent exit so he could bury the day in the back of his mind—

 

“Whoa—”

 

“That’s okay, I got’em.”

 

—and faced the scene again.

 

Bart jumped to the tips of his toes to grab baby Donald, with a worried, silly smile across his face. His eyes focused up to the redhead’s and he juggled between his feet. _“Jeez_ , ‘cuz. When was the last time you held a baby? Got grease on your fingers or something?”

 

Wally twitched, his demeanor twisting. “My bad. Uh—sorry.” He stuffed both hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. “Way to _show off_ though, kid.”

 

Dick frowned.

 

“Dude—” His best friend looked back over to him, with a coy smile across his lips. He jostled toward the teen and looped an arm around his shoulders. “You’re not leaving yet, right? I’m your escort—you think that’d look good on my part. That’s like—prom suicide.”

 

“Really,” Dick responded flatly. His gaze narrowed suspiciously to the other man.

 

And apparently Wally didn’t know why. A red eyebrow arched in the air and he crossed his arms again expectantly. “Dude—yeah. Seriously.”

 

“So—” Joan Garrick’s voice cut through their conversation, bringing everyone’s attention to the two men talking at the doorframe. She smiled to them as pleasantly as the other Flash Family women, and offered a look. “Will you be staying with us for the rest of the day, Richard?”

 

Blink, blink.

 

The speedster around his shoulders eyed him mockingly, a smirk curling across his face. Wally tightened his grip on the teen. “ _Yeah_ , Richard. Staying?”

 

All eyes remained on him expectantly. Mary and Rudy West grinned just like their son, Bart Allen, Iris West-Allen, and Barry Allen offered pleasant smiles, and Jay and Joan Garrick offered him sweet looks. Dick gulped, at a loss for words. “Sure…I…I guess.”

 

Later that day, after the awe of new babies had worn off, Barry suggested they eat food at the hospital cafeteria. Iris would be released from the hospital after the following day, after a checkup for both her and the babies. There was nothing else to celebrate—not for now. As excited as he looked about being a new father, there was still the Flash’s worry that showed in his eyes. Bart, Barry, Wally and he waited to get food.

 

Once Wally and he were the first to be seated—Dick decided to bring the subject up again.

 

“Yesterday,” he started, and he looked to the redhead carefully, “you mentioned letting Flash, Impulse, _and_ you handle the situation with Zoom.” He moved the green peas in his plate and waited patiently for Wally to finish his (questionable) meatloaf. “You…really serious about that?”

 

The redhead gulped down his food and looked over to the line suspiciously—where Barry insisted on getting Bart more than one plate of food. His expression morphed reluctantly, and suddenly, Wally leaned in for just the both of them. “What do you think?”

 

“I…” Dick’s voice trailed off. After today, he wasn’t sure _what_ to think. Instead, he stabbed the remnants of peas with his spork and twisted the utensil in his fingers. “I think that if you were still Kid Flash, you’d try to figure this out by yourself.”

 

Wally breathed heavily. He shook his head and the worry shined evidently across his face. The man reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah.”

 

Wait. “Wally—”

 

“Barry just had a kid. _Two kids._ And Bart…he means well, but he doesn’t realize what he’s up against. The kid’s still trying to figure out his life now that his mission’s over.” Wally shook his head and looked up into the air. He let out a bated breath—and then looked back to Dick. His gaze narrowed, until their eyes met each other. “Look—I’m not saying I’m Kid Flash again. But Barry and Bart…they’re my family. You should have seen the look on Uncle B’s face when he ran up to the hospital yesterday. How out of it he was.” Biting his lip, the redhead shook his head forlornly. “They’ve got a lot on their plate and I’ve got all the free time in the world. Let it fall in me for a change.”

 

“You’ll…let me help you though, right?”

 

His best friend looked up in surprise. Wally’s mouth parted slightly, eyebrows stretching beneath his hairline. He gripped the spoon beneath his fingers until it threatened to snap and made a sound from the back of his throat. “Seriously?”

 

Dick offered him another look—like Wally’d lost it. Given his plan of action though, the teen wouldn’t have doubted it. “You’re my best friend and for the first time in your life your family’s meeting a criminal that could actually kill you.” He flicked a green pea, which landed perfectly onto Wally’s plate. “Forget asking you. I’m helping, even if you don’t want me to.”

 

It was surprising, how _shocked_ Wally looked about the whole ordeal. Dick might has well have told him Zatanna was actually a man—or something. The man across from him shrunk—finally, and picked up the pea with his spoon. “Thank you. I mean—really. Uh. _Thanks._ ”

 

“Yeah, well.” Giving up, the teen scraped the rest of his peas onto Wally’s plate. He hated them anyway. “You’d do the same to me. You know—if I had an anti-villain.”

 

“Right.” Wally nodded obediently like a child.

 

Content, they ate the rest of their brunch in silence. Bart and Barry were still debating on what foods to get (Fastest Men Alive, but Slowest Picker of Foods, apparently) when the pair was finally done. Dick looked down to his empty plate, debating on getting up for an apple (something that actually looked organic) when he felt a hand run over his own.

 

He looked up.

 

Wally bit the inside of his mouth. “I’m not really sure.”

 

Um. The teen made a face, confusion crossing his demeanor, and in return he got a quiet laugh—followed by a soft flush in his best friend’s cheeks that blended in with his freckles.

 

“That…question you asked me earlier this morning.”

 

Oh.

 

“I’m not really sure,” Wally echoed, and his hand curled over the teen’s. He closed his eyes, heaving a heavy breath, and looked back up with nervousness running in his gaze. “I, uh. I know it’s not a ‘no.’ You and me…it’s been a thing, since we were kids, I think. You and I know that. But. I just…broke up with my girlfriend, and…I…whatever happens, I want to be able to commit to you one-hundred percent. Because…you do mean a lot to me. I just…need a little time to figure out what are good feelings and what are _good_ feelings.”

 

“Am…I getting rejected and confessed to at the same time?”

 

A smile curled across Wally’s lips—weak and fearful. At that moment, his best friend slowed down to meet his pace—so Dick could actually catch up to Wally.

 

Dick swallowed hard. He curled his fingers into Wally’s own and admired the blush as it darkened in his best friend’s face. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Wally repeated. He nodded jerkily. “Okay.”

 

They kept their grip on each other as both Bart and Barry arrived at the table. Neither Dick nor Wally planned on letting go.


	9. Bonding, McFlurries, Wrestling, Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are willing to run every obstacle for every person on this team,” Dick interrupted steadily. He tossed the empty cup onto the counter, crossed his arms, and stared at the redhead carefully. “I know you. You’re an idiot that way. But if you’ve drilled it through my mind that we all look out for each other, then you need to listen to yourself too. You need to be whelmed with the fact we go on missions. It’s what we do. Got it?”

The rest of October went by smoothly. Wally called in sick (which wasn’t a terrible lie) for an entire week before Halloween and skipped classes to help out with the twins. Aunt I was still on maternity leave, and chastised him to complete his education every time he showed up at her front door.

 

(It wasn’t much, Wally insisted halfheartedly. Two of his professors cancelled and the others were only lecturing. Silently, he decided he wanted to stay away from STAR Labs for as long as possible, to cool off from what they said about Bart.) After that, he and the kid would do dumb middle school homework (Bart had an eidetic memory and super speed. It just led to fast talking Algebra I and sizing each other up.)

 

They took runs. Despite Shriver’s irritating opinion, he discussed the theory with his cousin. Bart was smart. It was still weird seeing the little guy’s smile break into an apprehensive frown—painful, even, but Bart seemed to be the only one knowing what was going on. Every time Wally saw the frown he would feel a pang in his chest—guilt, for reminding Bart of the world he came from—and discomfort, the way the brunet would scrutinize him. It made him wonder which looks were rehearsed, and which were innate.

 

The way Bart’s eyebrows pursed together let Wally know the kid didn’t like the way they were wading it out. Problem A was letting out a painful charge when he didn’t run off the energy. Problem B was that if he ran too fast, his body locked up. So against Shriver’s orders to be a sitting duck, they ran in hopes of disposing of energy.

 

He didn’t have the heart to tell his cousin that he still went to bed, woke up in the morning, and went through the motions of the day anticipating when he’d have another body shock. At the moment he lay on his bed, with his head against the pillow and eyes making out the small grooves on his ceiling. The sun was setting, with orange hues ghosting across the wooden floor. Bart remained snuggled next to him, like a small child to a parent or an elder sibling. It happened a lot.

 

When it first happened, Wally wasn’t sure what to say. He was half-tempted to tell the kid to _buzz_ _off_ , but remembered Bart didn’t have a lot of happy memories as a kid. Snuggling up to family probably didn’t happen a lot. _If he even had a family_ , the redhead thought sourly to himself.

 

Bart didn’t have happy memories. Wally intended to make sure he knew he was welcomed anytime.

 

“You sure you don’t want to do anything for Halloween?” the redhead asked, hands crossed over his torso while Bart curled into the crook of his shoulder. Under the disappearing light he felt himself bloom red. While there was nothing intimate about lying next to his cousin, his thoughts couldn’t help but go back to Dick.

 

They were on speaking terms again, thankfully. Nightwing was often busy with the team, unable to separate himself from the team or other duties in Bludhaven. The nights he was free since the twins were born were spent on tracking down Zoom—who was getting closer to becoming a One Hit Wonder in the following weeks. Dick and he replayed the footage of Zoom’s arrival at the LexCorp facility—thanks to the mico-camera kept in Nightwing’s mask.

 

 _But_ —that was easier said than actually done. Dick could only give him one night in the past week, where only minimal hours were spent on the material. The redhead had been nervous, given their previous engagement was at the hospital. _‘I don’t know yet_ ,’ wasn’t an affirmative yes or no. With Shriver’s news, the twins, and Zoom to deal with, Wally almost regretted saying anything at all. But his best friend kept focus on the mission at hand, as though their exchange (in more ways than one) hadn’t happened.

 

He should have never asked if it was a onetime thing.

 

Or, for Wally’s sake—he should have been glad that he did.

 

Usually they spent the time at Wally’s duplex, with several computers set up for Nightwing’s convenience. More than once, Dick insisted they went to the Watchtower or the warehouse, even, for better tech, but Wally declined. He disliked the thought of being so far away from his home—from Palo Alto or from Central City. At least then he would collapse somewhere more familiar, and away from the superhero world. It was hard to regret his decision when it meant saving his family.

 

“Going stag. With you,” Bart mumbled, and he rolled over to hike a leg over Brucely. The dumb dog licked him, but he didn’t laugh. “S’dangerous for you to be alone on Halloween, y’know? Lot of ghosts.”

 

Snort. “You don’t seriously _believe_ that, do you?”

 

“Dude—I built a time machine, we have alien invasions and magic’s real.” The brunet scoffed, cuddling up into the dog contently. “Ghosts are real.”

 

“Are not. Neither’s magic, you twerp.”

 

“Is too.”

 

“Are _not._ ”

 

“Are _too._ ”

 

“Don’t be such an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, that’s crash stuff. If I get you angry enough, maybe you’ll haunt me when you keel over.”

 

Pause. Wally blinked, sitting up against the mattress. Bart’s eyes glued to the ceiling, and he slumped over the dog so his head dangled over the bed. Doing a double-take, Wally ran the words through his head again and wasn’t sure what shocked him more: how easily Bart mentioned his _death_ or that it was a reasonable excuse for ghosts to exist.

 

“Bart.”

 

“I know, it’s stupid. Mom and Dad don’t haunt me either.” One of Bart’s tiny feet nudged Wally in the pant leg, and he threw his hands enthusiastically in the air, head unseen.

 

Wally could do nothing but frown. The redhead crawled over, yanking the younger speedster by the ankle, and forced him up. Effervescent green eyes stared at him in protest, but Wally’s only darkened with annoyance bubbling in his stomach. He repeated— _slowly_ —“Don’t be such an idiot.”

 

He should have figured something was wrong when Bart burst into his room and went straight to cuddling. There was something about Bart, along with the way he acted—the cues in his behavior, that made his brain wired differently. Maybe the cold future. Maybe the invasion. Wally was first to say the speedster had the biggest heart of the family, but not all of it was worn on his sleeve. The look Bart gave him now made him feel like scum. Bart’s expression shriveled, bitter and judgmental.

 

“You’re dying,” he said carefully, “and you’re just gonna let it happen.”

 

 _“Yeah_ ,” Wally replied tensely, his jaw clenching, “I’m dying. And you and I are _prolonging_ it.”

 

“How can you just accept that?”

 

“I had more years to come to terms with it.” Now hearing _himself_ talk about dying was disbelieving. Wally supposed all the stress they’d gone through in the past few days made him sedated to his own news. He was more worried about when his next attack would come instead of how long he had left until he lost all sensation in his body. His arm was still dead. His calf was still numb. It would take him five minutes to pull himself up and balance on his feet. Shriver and the other doctors were begrudgingly right: all of the events in the past year— _putting the uniform back on—_ had accelerated his problem.

 

But like hell he was going to let Bart think it was _his_ fault. One body didn’t matter for the fate of the world.

 

“We can go trick-or-treating,” Wally suggested half-heartedly. He slid off the mattress, feeling awkwardness shoot up his leg, and took a breath as he balanced himself. “C’mon, B. It’s your first Halloween.  Costume store’s still open everywhere. I bet you’d make a great Thundercat.”

 

Like most days, Bart’s gaze locked onto the elder speedster with his hands curled into the duvet. (They’d gone shopping a few days before, so Wally could get rid of Artemis’s scent. She and he hadn’t spoken—in nearly a month now, with four more weeks that Wally was no longer Kid Flash.)

 

The last thing he was up for was the nagging aroma of his ex-girlfriend’s perfume while he dwelled on his life’s choices. Bart looked incredibly small, no matter how high he carried himself. He’d gotten taller in the months since his arrival, with clumsy awkward shoulders and bony elbows, but Wally still saw the kid that’d thrown tiny arms around him when they first met.

 

“If it’s all the same to you,” the brunet finally whispered, and his voice cracked painfully, “I like what we’re doing. Making sure you’re real.”

 

The redhead twitched. He didn’t want to know how ‘unreal’ he was in the future. Making a face, Wally allowed Brucely to nibble on one of his fingers and reached over to ruffle his cousin’s hair. “I am real. And you’re a pest.”

 

“You’re stuck with me.” And—Bart presumed to curl up next to the redhead like a little kid, with his grip tight over Wally’s arm.

 

“Careful—I still need the feeling in that arm,” Wally jested.

 

Neither one of them laughed.

 

**xxx**

****

_Truthfully, Wally had been scared and self-doubting when getting in a relationship with Artemis. It was the impulsive side of him that made him leap before he looked (like deciding to recreate an experiment in his parents’ garage and getting struck by lightning) and for the most part, he hadn’t regretted it. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts._

_The girls (and two guys—both of which, only Rob knew about) he’d dated freshman year didn’t work out. Sally Manson had an irritating laugh like a dying walrus every time he told a joke. Jenny Jubileeson was fixated on their first name-last name coincidence. Amanda Schaffer gave him huge bug eyes, bit the inside of her mouth intently, and confessed on their first and only date that she wanted to see Mark Bagby take him up the ass._

_(After that date, Wally scrubbed in the shower for an hour until he felt clean and not-violated again. The first guy he’d dated between Schaffer and Jennings (nonpublicly) was on the track team. Coincidently, right before Artemis, he did go out on a date with Mark. (It ended with a freaking awkward-awesome blowjob and baseball mitt-sized fingers up his ass that made him see stars. Wally decided make out sessions with a senior was the freaking best.)_

__

_All of them, to both his relief and chagrin, ended quickly. The Fastest Teen Alive couldn’t be in two places at once if he was sent on a mission in Moscow the same weekend he was expected to be at Roller City for a date. Artemis was different. She knew the double life thing—she lived it._

_And, despite their constant fights and “on-again, off-again” relationship in the past six months, he liked the making up. That they could stay together. Sure—it wasn’t a guarantee they were going to get married or something—but it was a happy feeling when they could overcome their stupid fights. (Even if he was right about last week—her hair was too long and gorgeous that someone could cut it off and clone her. TruFax covered a segment on cloning! It was true!)_

_The part where they were angry at each other though—that could go from hissy fits to full out wars. They were only together six months so far and the gang was already tired of giving them interventions. Artemis joked the last time they made up that Zatanna no longer wanted Wally’s name to be mentioned during a Girl’s Night Out. (He swore she hexed his freckles off three months into Artemis and his relationship. He **swore** it!) _

_Right now he’d been so pissed that he wanted to forget the reason that he provoked him. When the anger passed, depression slapped him hard and forced him to topple over the couch, drowned in his own sadness. Zatanna and Artemis retreated to the magician’s room without a peep. Kaldur went back to Atlantis shortly after their mission to discuss instating Tempest and Aquagirl on the team. Supey and Miss M decided to go out on a date._

_The obvious solution would be for him to call it a night and go home. But it was the summer and he refused to be the first one that left. It wasn’t just a fight. They’d broken up. With the staggering question of whether or not it was for good._

_For the moment, he’d forgotten how his legs moved. Artemis was the only girl he ever brought home for his parents to meet (at Uncle Barry’s embarrassing insistence.) Wally could go the weekend without hearing his mother’s cheerfully downcast voice for no longer being together, or Aunt Iris’s sympathetic smile and offer to make her Triple Chunky Chocolate Chip Cookies._

_Something cold pressed against his calf, forcing him to look between the tiny holes set by his hands above his face, and he met sight with Rob holding a large McDonald’s bag and a foursies-cupholder full of two McFlurries and two drinks. Dr. Pepper and Coke, respectively._

_Wally blinked, glass-eyed and wondrous as the smirking Boy Wonder swung his legs off the arm rest and perched cross-legged on a sofa cushion. “I thought you left.”_

_“Where do you think I got the McDonald’s?” The fourteen-year-old snorted and threw the bag toward his best friend. He plucked a McFlurry from the cup holder, pulled the long spoon out, and skidded his tongue over plastic. Rob’s hand gripped the stem much looser than he would a batarang—perfectly manicured nails digging into the corners. He leaned back, shoving his shades up the bridge of his nose. “So? What dumb thing did you do this time?”_

_The speedster blinked, mouth ajar as he stared at his best friend, and snapped out his ministrations. Difficultly. “I…think you know why.”_

_“She went deep undercover for a mission and you panicked. Dude,” Robin pointedly rolled his eyes, and blue orbs were slightly visible beneath the shades. “You’ve got to loosen up. Stop putting everyone on a short leash, otherwise it’s going to come back and bite you in the ass.”_

_“I don’t put everyone on a short leash!”_

_“You do.” Robin wagged his spoon effervescently, and bits of it landed between Wally’s eyes. Tittering softly, the boy arched an ebony eyebrow from beneath his shades, his demeanor stirring more seriously. “Wally, you have this weird idea that so long as someone is close to you, nothing can go wrong. It’s…” He held his breath, which was when Wally realized this was an intervention, all on Rob’s words alone. “That’s how you were last month. You know. Uh. Gay Club.”_

_In that instant, Wally’s brain steered to a halt. His cheeks blazed red, the heat burning on his face. He tried to figure out what his demeanor must have looked like—not good—and looked over to the younger teen. In return, Dick thankfully looked like he was trying to keep down a steady blush as well. “Wh…what do you mean?”_

_They hadn’t talked about it since making up. Everyone was just relieved they’d resolved the problem, and the biggest thing both of them promised to forget was their kiss. Wally went home that night debating the words over and over in his mind—how Dick said it, his tone in it, why he said it—and realized it was a part of Robin that the fourteen-year-old maybe, **maybe** noticed too. _

_Rob swung his legs and crossed them over the couch cushion. He licked a finger where ice cream dribbled. “Dude. You’re just…very protective. This isn’t just one of your dumb fights about who steers the Bioship. Sure, some people may think it’s endearing, but you’re an idiot if you think you can do that. In this situation. Here.”_

_“How does this have anything to do with the ki—gay club?” Wally’s cheeks flared and his expression soured. The more he said ‘gay,’ the higher need he felt to wince. Dick, the freak he was, managed to keep a solid expression despite their embarrassment. For a moment Wally forgot the predicament was about his relationship with Artemis, instead of…remembering the forgotten. The elder teen scowled, arms crossed unhappily over his chest._

_“Because. We had that fight since I kept telling you I was fine and you insisted that I could have gotten hurt.” For a second, Wally swore the younger teen’s voice cracked. But—who was he kidding; Robin was Boy Perfect._

_Catching Rob trip up was near impossible. The said Boy Wonder sucked on his spoon, with little dabs of white ice cream forming at the open lines of his lips, and he rattled his fingers over the cup. He licked his lips, somehow making his fourteen years of life look absolutely inviting—and Wally bit the inside of his mouth to remind him of their setting._

_“O…kay,” Wally responded carefully. His eyebrows stuck together._

_He snapped out of his thoughts completely—but only after the Boy Wonder rolled his eyes, pulled out the front of the speedster’s shirt—and dumped the remaining contents of his ice cream in Wally’s shirt._

_“JESUS CHRIST!”_

_“Listen, Kid Dumbass.”_

_“I am! And I’m sure Bats wouldn’t appreciate the vocabulary you’ve picked up since—”_

_“You are willing to run every obstacle for every person on this team,” Dick interrupted steadily. He tossed the empty cup onto the counter, crossed his arms, and stared at the redhead carefully. “I know you. You’re an idiot that way. But if you’ve drilled it through my mind that we all look out for each other, then you need to listen to yourself too. You need to be **whelmed** with the fact we go on missions. It’s what we do. Got it?” _

_Ugh. The last thing Wally wanted to do was admit he was wrong. The thing was—everything they did now was **intense.** As they triumphed every mission, the harder the next one was. It wasn’t just the occasional mission in Gotham with his friends, or fighting morons in Central City. The mental exercise…which was almost a **year** ago still spooked him as a probability._

_He thought about it—knowing no way in hell did he want to tell his best friend that. However._

_Robin reached over, with neither of the girls nor anyone else in sight, and grazed a finger over Wally’s bare neck out of comfort. It was tender and sweet in contrast to the scrunch in ebony eyebrows, and his lips tightened. In that instant, Wally chastised himself—Robin always knew what he was thinking. “Okay?”_

_Most of the time, that gesture could be returned. Ducking his head in a tense nod, he agreed. “Alright. But I swear to god—what is it with you and Artemis, trying to kill me to get your point across? You two are in cahoots or something.”_

_“Cahoots. Seriously?”_

_“Uh. Yeah—” Breaking into a maniacal grin, Wally flung the bag of fast food in his best friend’s face. “—seriously.”_

_“What the hell Wally?” French fries exploded over the unsuspecting Boy Wonder, and he shielded himself with an arm. A snicker roared from the back of his throat and he lunged toward the redhead, both in a fit of laughter. “You’re a moron.”_

_“Dude! Wh—Whoa—”_

_“Whoa!”_

_Robin had straddled his best friend’s hips, a French fry in hand in order to shove it in the other boy’s face. Wally laughed and snorted, craning his neck back as far as he could at the other end of the couch. Being who he was (dumb, clumsy Wally West), they flipped over, Wally crashing head first into the cave wall and took Dick with him—consisting of a series of heinous cracks._

_Wally laughed—harder than he’d ever done in the past week with the Boy Wonder beneath him. They bashed noses with a snort, glee tingling through his veins. “ **Dude**.” _

_“You started it,” Dick tittered back—then shoved a hand at the speedster’s bicep._

_God was he wrong about comparing his best friend to his girlfriend. Artemis would have beat him into submission until he apologized—and taken away his food. Rob brought him food and—somehow had him laughing if he had a bloody nose. His throat hurt, aching in good humor. Opening his eyes, he was met with lopsided shades dangling over perfect blue eyes. An impish smirk accompanied the big-eared, too-freaky teen’s lips, neither one making the effort to move. Wally’s nose hurt—but he smiled._

_Then he didn’t. “So…how come you didn’t tell me you and Zatanna broke up too?”_

_The entertaining grin disappeared from his best friend’s face. Dick moved his legs, indicating they were tangled together, and crossed his arms over his chest. He tilted his head to the side, ebony black hair spreading at the rocky floor, and lips pursed together. “I—” Dick ceased, putting thought into his answer. Wally wasn’t sure what to expect. “—it wasn’t really your business.”_

_“I heard it from Artemis. You know, Zee’s best friend.” Neither one moved, with Wally’s forearms on either side of the Boy Wonder. He frowned, feeling the confusion knot in his stomach. He’d found out earlier that morning before the mission and intended to confront Rob about it. If—you know, Artemis and he hadn’t had that fight. “You’re my best bud. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”_

_No response. Dick looked to him plaintively, lips still curled in a frown, and refused to talk._

_“Rob—”_

_“Wally? You…still here?” Down the hall, the door opened with Artemis’s voice poking out._

_Instinctively, Wally turned his head, expecting the blonde to come out at any time. Robin took the chance to crawl out of his arms, leaving the redhead cold against the floor._

_“I’ve.” Dick pushed the hair out of his face and dusted off his jacket. “Got to go meet Bats in Gotham. You…should make up with her.”_

_He put distance between them, until Wally lay at one side of the room and his best friend at the other. The redhead’s hands remained firmly on the ground, green orbs scrutinizing his best friend. The hesitant steps of his soon-to-be-reunited girlfriend echoed down the hall._

_“Okay,” Wally said finally. “Thank you.”_

**xxx**

The past few nights forced Wally to be incredibly aware when he heard the window opening. Some mental illness of Dick Grayson’s made it impossible for him to use the goddamn _door_ , with the means to spook Wally and catch the ex-speedster off guard.

 

He was embarrassed to say that it still did.

 

However, waking up with Bart cuddled up to his stupid dog and… _not_ feeling his toes made him go into red alert. Wally frowned, pushing off the bed to see the dark silhouette at his window. His body staggered, dead arm falling beneath him, and his face pressed uncomfortably in the mattress. Nightwing’s fingers curled against the glass and etched it up while the redhead firmly mounted his feet to the ground. Or—tried to.

 

Wally clutched the nightstand, feeling one of his legs collapse beneath the other, which was enough to stir Bart awake. The brunet groaned softly in his sleep, surprisingly frozen before his eyes fluttered open. Brucely, too, climbed off the bed with an enthusiastic bark and nudged Wally in the leg.

 

“Hiya,” Wally mumbled, but his expression soured.

 

Bart, without being addressed, sprinted over to the window to help (or stall) the man in. “Hiya, Nightwing! So are you and my cuzzo an item now or like how does that work are you going to make babies some day—don’t you practically live here—Patrick lives under a rock, do you think that’s sanitary?”

 

“I…don’t know, Bart.”

 

Turning around, Wally flashed a stiff smile in his best friend’s way, and groaned internally when Nightwing smiled back.

 

“Hey—”

 

“Why did you show up through my window?”

 

“Because it scares you more than when I use your door.” Dick responded without missing a beat, yet suddenly he raised an eyebrow in the air, charmingly handsome and irritatingly witty.

 

“Yeah, but. Could you—could you stop?” Wally’s feet flattened on the ground and unintentionally, he found himself glaring at the Boy Wonder. He walked over with the slightest discomfort in his dead leg, and curled his hands into fists. “I mean—seriously.”

 

Bart looked to him, doe-eyed and confused, and Wally only responded a withered look. The brunet rolled on his heels, hands curled behind his back and—flashed him a look that seemed an awful lot like Tim’s. “Do you want me to scram now?”

 

Wally twitched. Honestly, he didn’t want to deal with any this. “Yes.”

 

A mixture of doubt and uncertainty fell across the teen’s face, with his expression turned away from Dick. Wally blinked, examining his baby cousin’s worried look and mentally cursed himself. When did this thing become such a big secret? Then—with as much grandiose as he usually did with his act, a smile spread from cheek-to-cheek without reaching Bart’s green eyes, and he whirred around the room to gather his backpack. “Alright! Bye cuzzo! Bye Brucely! Bye DG!”

 

 _DG?_ Wally did everything to keep from rolling his eyes. Bart torpedoed out of the room with his backpack slung over his shoulder and could be seen disappearing through the streets of Palo Alto. Crows on a telephone wire shrieked in surprise—and the laughter of a thirteen-year-old boy echoed as he left city limits. Wally didn’t realize he was frowning until Nightwing pointed it out.

 

“You two have gotten really close in the past few weeks.”

 

“What?” Snapping out of his irritating thoughts, the redhead unintentionally plopped back into his mattress, with his toes struggling to curl beneath his feet. He moved to grab a blanket and set it over his lap. Dick’s expression morphed, almost as impish as it had been in his dream. ( _Flashback._ ) Realizing the subject at hand, Wally’s expression shifted, eyes remaining on the window sourly. “Yeah. I mean—of course. He’s my cousin.”

 

“So what bothers you about it?”

 

“Nothing bothers me about it. Well—” Wally’s nose wrinkled, and he sighed unpleasantly, hand going to his temple. “I mean. Is…he doing well?”

 

“Yeah. Of course.” The frown and surprise could be heard in Dick’s voice, as though he couldn’t believe Bart would be otherwise. _No shit_ , though. Bart was the grandson of Barry Allen. It was in his genes to be prodigious. “He aspires to be like you, you know.”

 

“He aspires to be like _the Flash._ ” And to fix whatever wrong he’d unintentionally done. Wally looked at the teen with sore eyes, a tired smile across his face. The first night, Bart cut himself off before he could finish his sentence, and the guilt was saturated in his eyes. The brunet insisted on ‘fixing’ his elder cousin with anxious enthusiasm, but Wally couldn’t make heads or tails of what he would _become._

 

It was sad to say that all the redhead wanted was to ride out his problem as long as he could—and when he passed, Bart could still look to the world with hope.

 

Okay. That was enough depressing thoughts for now.

 

“I just want him to be happy,” Wally started, and he looked up to his best friend’s surprisingly cheerful face. Making a face, he fell back onto the mattress and grunted as Brucely licked is face. “And by that— _Brucely, **stop**_ —I wanna be able to look at his smile and _know_ that he’s not faking it.”

 

No response. Wally supposed it was odd to say that he would do anything for his family—even give up his useless legs. Hell—here he was now, tracking down a speedster that threatened to kill his family, and two feet away from putting on the uniform again. Yet—Shriver convinced him of one thing. Running was the problem.

 

The thoughts flew away from him when he felt a hand run up his shin. He shivered, peering up to the smirk that greeted him, and felt the red illuminate in his cheeks. Dick laughed softly, his hair flowing into his line of vision. “You’re such a _softie_ , West.”

 

“Live it, breathe it, love it,” Wally responded cheekily. He quirked an eyebrow, then shoved a foot into the other man’s bicep. “If I’m soft, you’re _pudding_ , Dick Grayson.”

 

“That doesn’t even make _sense_ , you _dolt._ ” Dick swatted the foot away, gently elbowing at Wally’s heel—and laughed. _Seriously_?

 

“Hah!” Pushing into a sitting position, Wally nudged his best friend in the arm and bared his teeth in amusement. “ _This_ from the guy that had his own _Dick­-tionary_ since he was twelve? I don’t even know what you and Zatanna were _saying_ to each other the entire time you were together!”

 

“At least I didn’t get a _slap in the face_ every time I opened my _mouth_.”

 

“I did _not_!”

 

“Did too!”

 

They stared at each other—grins spread so far across their faces that it hurt. Then—without a second thought, they lunged. Wally couldn’t have deciphered who tackled first, but he found himself laughing with the back of his head against the mattress, and Nightwing’s hands clawing into the front of his shirt. The first Boy Wonder rolled his hips, pertinently straddling the redhead’s waist with a malignant grin.

 

“Pinned you,” Nightwing chirped.

 

Wally keened, staring at the leering boy above him. He shouted, pushing forward against Nightwing until his best friend’s head dangled off the mattress. Then—Nightwing’s legs clung to the redhead, hoisting him up and Wally down—and he tossed his head back, laughing like a little _kid._

“Pinned you _again_.”

 

“Thanks for the play-by-play, Nala. I hadn’t _noticed._ ” Wally raised his head, trying his best not to laugh until he snorted. After all of that combat training from the World’s Greatest Detective, Wally found himself beneath his best friend, arms over his head, and was met with an impish snicker.

 

He couldn’t help but notice the absolute glee that tingled in the wrinkles of Dick’s face when he smiled. The hair in Dick’s face stood in all directions, with the black mask collapsing to the little scrunches and twitches in the contour of the ex-Boy Wonder’s face. His demeanor was solid—and every bit of what Wally liked: genuine.

 

The night from what felt like ages ago fluttered back to mind—to the red that bloomed across Dick’s smooth tan skin, to the small way he opened his mouth into a small ‘o’ and moaned. Running his hand down the side of the old acrobat’s abdomen, he let out a breath and squinted. Scrutinized his best friend, whose voice tumbled in his ears like a melody. And— _god_ , those lips. Those kissable, kissable lips.

 

Wally reached up, smoothing out the flesh on Dick’s neck with the tips of his fingers, and pressed the hidden button to Dick’s mask to see those effervescent cerulean blue eyes. Dick’s hands flattened on Wally’s chest.

 

“Dolt,” his best friend mumbled in teasing vibrato.

 

“Dork,” Wally bit back, with just as much vivacity.

 

Dick leaned down, with dark hair dangling in the air. A breathy laugh left his lips and he cupped Wally’s face with his hands. The redhead leaned up and—

 

“What’s that?”

 

The engagement ring.

 

Laying on the floor after their roughhousing was the forgotten jewelry box; the one that Wally hid under the bed almost half a year ago with the forgotten intention to return it. Wally’s eyes glossed over, red eyebrows pinching together as the realization ran through his head—and his heart sunk again.

 

“Artemis,” he whispered to Dick’s query. Shit.

 

 He…felt like scum again, reminded of her and the life they had together. Wally reached out to grab the box—then realized he was doing it with his dead arm, unable to curl his fingers to grip it. He pried out of Dick’s grip, suddenly feeling cold and miserable, and rolled onto the ground to cup it in his palms. Double shit.

 

Silence filled the room, with the quiet echoes of trick-or-treaters fluttered from the window, and the redhead was ready to hit himself.

 

Well—there came the depression again.

 

“Uh…dude?”

 

The said (ex)speedster sat cross-legged on the ground (after manually looping them together) and groaned to himself. Loudly, he pronounced, “It was an engagement ring that I bought for Artemis. I kept it hidden under the bed, so eventually when we saw each other again after the invasion, I could propose to her.” Though his reasoning behind it was incredibly petty. And pathetic.

 

Had he actually proposed within the past few months, Wally didn’t think he could bare the look Artemis would’ve given him. Admittedly, they hadn’t spoken to each other since the blonde officially moved out—but he couldn’t stand the look of mortification and horror Artemis probably would have given him if they were still “dating.”

 

He loved her. And—

 

They were moving way too fast. Dick and he. Wally already felt like a mondo-jerk from the way he treated Dick in the last few months; being recluse and refusing to associate himself with the team. Then— _god_ , the fact he and Artemis had broken up a month ago. Wally’d been with the girl for _five years._ He…felt _something_ for Dick, but it was hard to get over someone you were seriously debating spending the rest of your life with _._

 

Faintly, the said teen slid off the bed, slumping next to his best friend with a skeptical look across his face. Cerulean blue eyes looked to him, wary. Wally hardly noticed the foot of distance between them. “You were going to propose. To Artemis.”

 

Wally nodded, ignoring the tentativeness in his best friend’s voice. He could hardly hear it. Instead—he rested his head behind him, digging his hair into the mattress. It wasn’t so much that he missed Artemis—as much as the idea of it. Getting married, being high school sweethearts like Mom and Dad. Dad gave him a pep talk over it, but that was a contingency he would never experience.

 

No watching her walk down the aisle in a beautiful wedding dress. No hidden smirk—the one where his smile said ‘you look gorgeous, babe’ and Artemis’s went, ‘of course I do.’ No giving each other goofy looks during the remainder of their year and saving up to buy their first house out of college. They were practically married to begin with—but he liked the thought of the ring making it official.

 

But—who would want to marry a numb cripple?

 

“You never told me that.”

 

“You and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time,” Wally pointed out. He opened the small box, revealing the small gem inside. It hadn’t been much—mostly a silver band, crested with enough jewels to satisfy his girlfriend. Artemis may have quit the team, but she still did archery in her free time and was very active. Wally intended to get her something that wouldn’t easily fall off. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he finally realized the tightness to his best friend’s demeanor.

 

Dick watched him, with his hands flat on the floor and lips curled tightly. Worriedly. The opaque lenses were suddenly sheathed, so Wally had an idea of what was pooling in those eyes. “You were planning on proposing to your _girlfriend_ and you didn’t think it would be a good idea to sit down and think it through with someone?”

 

“With _whom?_ You were so busy covering Kaldur’s ass that I couldn’t sit down and talk to you about it.” Wally’s expression twisted and he sighed sharply. Gathering to his feet, he sucked in a breath and thanked the world he could move. He placed the velvet box on his nightstand forlornly and ran a finger across the fabric. Looking over his shoulder—he paused.

 

Blue orbs stared back to him, the jaw beneath them tightening and—oh.

 

“Are we fighting right now?” Wally blabbed simultaneously, as the realization ran through his head. Actually—he’d gone from being anxious to enthusiastic to angry fast. Suddenly Wally’d forgotten how they ended up at their current path of destruction. He groaned, pressed one hand to his face, and hid the numb one in a pocket.

 

“Are you…feeling alright?”

 

“YeahI’m—I’m fine.”

 

“Can you look me in the eye and say that?”

 

Wally bit the inside of his mouth. Doing just that, he realized Nightwing had taken his mask off. Ebony eyebrows stretched, marred and analytical like all the years Wally’d seen them when he was still Kid Flash. It was painfully cute. And—suspicious.

 

Unlike the memory Wally had—of Dick ducking away and avoiding questions—he found the ex-Boy Wonder on the other end. Blue eyes narrowed at him, strangely reminding the redhead of the night at the club. A lump swelled in his throat, and he kept from jumping on Dick’s case. “I’m fine,” he said—and to prove his point, he shoved the engagement ring on the other end of the nightstand. “I’ve been planning to return it for some time now. We just got…overloaded.”

 

Heavy-headed and close to squirming, Wally bit his lip when Dick reached out to grab his dead arm. His eyebrows knitted together, watching as Dick reluctantly curled his hand over the redhead’s wrist. Back when they were kids, grabbing hands were no big deal. They used to not care for personal space, nor did they tip-toe around each other so charily. Dick used to smile and laugh at the same time, and everything would be okay.

 

Wally just wished it was easy to feel what he felt back then, right now.

 

“You…” Dick’s voice trailed off. “That night. You said you wanted to tell me something—”

 

“Notrightnow, Dick.”

 

“But you weren’t ready yet.”

 

Shit. “Not right now.” Shaking his head firmly, Wally’s heart skipped a beat before he shoved his dead hand into his pocket. He felt Dick’s look of suspicion, the exasperation from too many odd things done because of the speedster. Dick knew him to well—which was his greatest weakness.

 

“What could be so bad that you couldn’t _tell_ me?” the acrobat finally asked, voice deadpanned with a small bit of aggravation.

 

“ _Nothing_ , Dick.” Unable to contain himself, Wally gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes emphatically. All he wanted right now was for Dick to just _drop it._ “It’s not your business. Neither was the ring. What I do is my business, just like what you do is your business, okay?”

 

It was just another opening, ready for a fight. Maybe that was their relationship after all; maybe that was all they were capable of. Keeping a smile at the forefront and then letting out anger the next, since it was the only thing that bound them together now. Dick made it pretty freaking obvious he wanted Wally back on the team—just as Wally insisted that he didn’t _want_ to.

 

He saw the teen seethe, teeth grinding to keep cool. Dick rubbed his eyes, sighing as he did so, and turned his footing back to the duffle bag Wally hadn’t noticed before. “We finally have some time together. Let’s not waste it on something irrelevant.”

 

And with that, the subject was dropped.

 

“Good,” Wally responded. His shoulders hunched to his ears and he bit the inside of his mouth stubbornly.

 

Silence blanketed the room next, making everything eerily quiet aside from merry trick-or-treaters and childish shrieks. They worked side by side, with three feet of distance between them, and Wally pretended that it didn’t bother him. Dick hooked up his own computer, cross-referencing the footage of Zoom with the radiation signature left behind by the Flash, Wally, and Impulse. It was different—definitely different.

 

Through their soft awkward murmurings, Wally couldn’t help but frown.

 

Eventually he realized the mask that rested on the bed had disappeared, now returning to its owner’s face. Nightwing stared into the bright light of his laptop, and Wally watched.

 

Waiting a heartbeat, Wally observed the glow capture the contour of Dick’s face—aged, somber, and without that sweet glee.

 

“Sorry,” he whispered to the quiet room. It echoed off the walls, and Brucely whined to be let out to pee. 


	10. Patience, Halloween, Apartments, Zoom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So are we going to talk about your emotional inability to come to terms with your feelings for Dick while we’re apartment hunting?”

Dick’s patience for Wally’s attitude was thinning. There was no doubt about that. Two weeks had passed since the hospital incident, since they had...well. Fucked, would have been the appropriate word for it. _Makeup sex_ didn’t to fit right up their alley, especially since Wally seemed hesitant to do anything. That hesitation was blinded by Wally’s… _absolute idiocy_ earlier, when they roughhoused. Now, Dick wouldn’t have minded staying as far away from the bed as possible.

 

His bed at home still smelled like Wally, too.  

 

Not that he would ever admit that. Nightwing spent so much time doting on his old best friend that he was forced to make all of it up. Kaldur may have reassumed his title as co-leader, but he spent a painful year away to gain the Light’s trust, while Dick aided with expanding the team. Batgirl was there to mediate and take up his duties, but Babs said moot point that she wasn’t going to ‘pick up his shit.’

 

She knew forty ways to dislocate his shoulder and hearing her curse still made him stutter.

 

Wally and he made little progress in tracking down Zoom. There were only so many ways that you could hack into LexCorp cameras and observe the radiation, heat signatures, and abilities of a speedster, based on one encounter. Especially for this speedster.

 

“Is that all you can find?”

 

It didn’t help that Dick’s mind was stuck on that dumb engagement ring. That _goddamn engagement ring._

 

“Uh…dude?”

 

“What? Oh.” Frown descending upon his lips, Nightwing sifted through his files and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out an unhappy sigh with a pertinent scowl and shook his head. They’d extracted the scene approximately seventy times, but there was no avail finding something new. “Sorry. You and the rest of your family emit the same radiation waves when you run, with only a few distinct differences. You’ve got to be a professional to even find the _start_ of the track marks left by you guys. Bart and Barry especially.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” Wally murmured. His tone turned bitter and exasperated. Dick couldn’t help the empathetic smile that twisted across his face. His friend didn’t notice.

 

“I’ll have to create a program designed specifically to look up statistics between the four of you.  It may take a while.” Leaning back, Nightwing rubbed the spot where his bump used to be and grimaced. “Probably would have had better luck if I wasn’t out of the fight so early.”

 

Wally turned around, eyes locked to the hand over Dick’s head. The younger man bit the inside of his mouth to keep from wincing—while Wally reached up, smoothing the hair out of Dick’s face.

 

He leaned close, until the once-acrobat could see the specks of light green in the redhead’s eyes and felt Wally’s breath on his nose.

 

“That’s right,” Dick almost didn’t hear. “That bastard basically rammed your head into cement. Hard.”

 

Wally’s voice came out in a quiet vibrato, voice low and inquisitive like he would be working on his projects. The fierceness from earlier vanished.

 

“How’s your head?” The redhead asked next, his voice curious.

 

Tender. It was—

 

Too much. “Fine.” Plucking Wally’s hand away from him, Dick stood up and placed concrete distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair, scalp suddenly tingling from the sensitive fingers, and drew a sharp breath. “Trust me. I’ve taken harder hits before him.”

 

Concern flashed over Wally’s face followed by guilt and quiet sternness. “I really am sorry. For…you know. Yelling at you.”

 

Dick’s thoughts flashed back to the engagement ring _again_ —which sat far away on the nightstand. His best friend was willing to commit to his girlfriend of five years—and by the way Wally reacted when they found it, it was out of a lowly neediness. One that meant that Wally was going crazy without his girlfriend and was willing to put it on her like a shackle so she wouldn’t leave again. All without confronting him—and then _snapping_ at Dick when he questioned why Wally wouldn’t search for a dose of sanity.

 

“I know you are,” Dick replied after a painful minute where Wally’s expression morphed. But the truth was—he was tired of all of it. He was at his threshold, where he was just _so close_ to giving up on Wally and letting the other man live his mundane life. It would have served him right. The nineteen-year-old thought he would never feel that way—especially about his best friend.

 

“So…?” Wally gestured to the computer kit left out over his floor and plopped down into a more comfortable position. “We going to geek the night away?”

 

“Actually.” Dick double-tapped his gauntlet and cursed when he saw the time. He dropped to his knees and scooped the materials into a duffel bag. “Shit—I’m late. I’ve got to pick up Babs so we can get to the party.”

 

“Party?” The redhead leaned over until he fenced off Dick’s peripheral vision and furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. “You’re going to a party?”

 

“The Halloween Party the Watchtower puts on every year.” It was come-and-go. Obviously not all operatives could skip out on patrol, but plenty would party for the twenty-four hours and leave when their respective cities reported a crime.

 

“A date,” Wally reiterated, his voice flat. “With your ex-girlfriend.”

 

Looking over, Nightwing was met with a guy who was better described like a kicked puppy. If Dick’s temper wasn’t so high, he might have made a lame excuse to get out of going. “I made the promise back when we were still dating.” _And then we broke up because she knows how to read me like a book._ “Besides. Our break-up was mutual. You didn’t even know we were dating until a few weeks ago. When I broke up with her.”

 

He spared a pointed look and watched Wally read the words out in his head. “I just thought that…you’d want to spend the night with…you know. Me.”

 

“I…” Dick’s voice trailed off. The way the night was going, he knew better to take that offer. One way or another the night would dissolve into fighting. And he doubted a good makeup fuck could mend the lines between them. Dick wanted as much time away from his best friend as possible. Which made him feel like shit.

 

“How come I wasn’t invited?”

 

“You’re always invited. Retired heroes suddenly aren’t heroes anymore just because they don’t go.” Dick’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. He looked at the troubled line between red eyebrows. “You…can come if you want—”

 

“No. That…that would be awkward, I guess. Going stag to a party even though I’ve said repeatedly that I’m not putting the suit back on.” Wally waved his hands and shoved them both in his pockets. He hunched his shoulders to his ears and looked in a different direction. “Um. Good tidings and all to you, I guess.”

 

“That’s Christmas, KF.” Snort. Dick’s gaze narrowed to his best friend. “We don’t have to be like, _together_ , to go together to a party, you know.”

 

“I know.” Wally looked up to the ceiling and shook his head. “Just—do whatever. It’s—there are some girls that live downstairs. I’ll probably go see them and help give out candy or something. They’ve been asking for me to hang out since Arty and I broke up anyway.”

 

Dick’s jaw tightened. “I see.”

 

“Yeah. You…have fun.”

 

“You too.” Dick trekked over to the window and opened it with one hand. He stared at Wally’s feet, feigning disinterest in the ground. “I—like I said. We don’t have to be dating to be each other’s escorts at a party, Walls.”

 

“I know.”  Wally waved his hand again, flopping it in the air. His gaze narrowed, nose wrinkling in offense. “Look, I’m not dumb. You can do whatever the hell you want; if you two do hanky-panky at the end of the night—”

 

“Just like you and I don’t have to have emotional ties,” Dick cut off, “to having sex with each other.”

 

“Oh. Uh.” Wally blinked, taking the claim whole-heartedly as the surprise registered in his face. His eyebrows twisted again, conflicted, and jaw tightening in disbelief. Like, ‘ _Did you really just go there?’_

 

Which was what Dick meant, by saying everything would just spiral into another argument. “Don’t think about it. You’ve already got a lot on your plate.” Dick waved a hand off and let one foot lean out the door.

 

Wally swallowed his unexpected anger, then crossed his arms. His demeanor morphed into forced amusement. “Can you ever descend out the window like a normal person?”

 

“I’m not normal.” Dick feigned one more smile before lunging out the window, duffel bag and all. He landed on his feet between the middle steps, and drew a sharp breath as Wally’s goodbye resonated down to him. Relief exploded in his chest, finally away from the source of all his fury.

 

He should have called Wally out, right there and then. Ask him what was so fucking _important_ that it kept him from being honest. Why Wally flipped his emotions on-and-off and went defensive.

 

Worst off, Dick was still wondering why he allowed himself to go through all of this with his unbearable best friend, who spoon-fed him affection one moment and treated him worse than his dog the next.

 

Dammit.

 

With a sigh, the teen mounted at the last steps and covered his eyes with his hand.

 

He couldn’t give up on Wally.

 

Not ever.

 

**xxx**

Dick had a date for nearly every party the League threw since the original Team and he were permitted to work on the Watchtower. Since the Big Bat himself declared they stood on an equal level to the Justice League (“graduating” still welcomed) that meant an assorted amount of people were now dancing in the Halloween-decorated gym.

 

Clark said very calmly that alcoholic drinks would be offered in the floor above, followed by an area for people to change. (He also threatened to use heat vision on any minors that tried to sneak off with a few beers.) Back when Babs and he were dating, Dick somehow managed to convince her to dress as Wanda, Tim as _Timmy Turner_ and he himself as Cosmo. The younger kids painted Sphere to look like Poof when Superboy wasn’t looking.

 

Tim, Babs, and he geeked out about convincing hair dye to get Cosmo’s green color to stay in Dick’s hair. Zee offered to charm them (she herself arriving as an adorable hobbit dancing with someone who looked like Spock.) _Halloween_ , however, was a holiday defined as using all of the resources one could find at Walmart. If he were in a better mood, he would have bragged to Donna about all the paperclips used to keep his crown afloat.

 

He watched the gym entrance expand once again, to see Artemis dressed in a coconut bra, grass skirt, and lei, arm-in-arm with a regular-looking Kaldur. The Atlantean’s eyebrows furrowed, red adorning his cheeks.

 

No doubt out of his element. The blonde flashed her winning, roguish smile, and tugged him by the wrist toward Ollie and Dinah. He stopped her—pulled a fake flower off her lei, and pushed it through her long hair.

 

They couldn’t be anymore obvious. Blue eyes rolled between bright green contacts, and Dick hiked his feet over his table. The resident acrobat reached over and nibbled on a mini Snickers.

 

Many of the elder members had left: Batman wouldn’t step into a party unless they were being held at gunpoint. Superman left early (after coming early) to patrol, while Flash was preoccupied with the newborn twins. Half of the time—according to Impulse—Bart was trusted to patrol Central City by himself. Even the Fastest Man Alive needed more time with his children.

 

Across the dance floor, his Wanda was laughing and giggling as Jane-M’gann circled around the flustered Tarzan-Conner. (Dick considered himself lucky—after all, Raquel insisted _he_ came in a loin cloth.) As soon as they entered the room, Robin slunk into his group of friends, doing who-knows-what in the far corner of the room. The last Bat opted to sit next to the punch bowl and check every ten minutes to make sure it wasn’t spiked.

 

Once the song ended, Babs made eye-contact with him. Dick offered a smile and waved curtly, while she made a beeline toward him. A reddish-pink eyebrow arched into the air and she pulled the chair out. “You know, I gave you the option of not coming with me. We made this date back when we were still dating.”

 

“I don’t think Alfie would look as good with butterfly wings.” Dick’s lips contorted wryly. He reached up and flicked a finger through the singular swirl over his partner’s head. She caught his hand swiftly, dragged her date out of the chair as the song changed into something more high-paced and energetic.

 

“You can sulk however long you want.’ She looked to him, gorgeous eyes glimmering with mischief, and held him close until her abs were pressed against his own. “But you still owe me a dance before then, Dick Grayson.”

 

Dick shivered under her gaze. He waited a moment, watching her penchant gaze burst into a powerful smirk, and laughed quietly in her presence. Readjusting her grip, his hand curled over hers and they waltzed toward the dance floor. “Sure.”

 

Once people saw the first Boy Wonder step foot on the dance floor, they parted with party-high grins. Usually Dick spent the entire night making sure his date knew she was the center of his world. He felt the guilt bubble in his stomach, watching Babs light up with a laugh and swinging her to the beat of the music. They may have broken up, but she was still his partner. The most efficient he’d ever had. Even better than Wally.

 

_Which somehow didn’t make him feel better._

 

Cursing beneath his breath, Dick broke into a laugh, watching his normally-composed best friend shake her hair. The pins holding her pink hair together popped out, exploding like torpedoes onto the floor. She didn’t touch them until the end of the song.

 

“That’s the last time I trust _you_ to get my bobby pins for me,” she chided half-heartedly. Barbara collected the twenty bobby pins and fiddled with her hair.

 

He stopped her, placing a firm hand over her wrist. An earnest smile fell across his lips and he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against her knuckle. “You look beautiful just the way you are.”

 

Pink eyes looked to green, with the body glitter shimmering against her cheekbones. Babs looked up to him, red hair flowing beside her, and blinked. A smile graced her face and she tightened her grip on hers. “Nice try.”

 

Shrug. “Had to.”

 

If anyone looked over and saw the loving gesture, they probably would have assumed Batgirl and Nightwing were getting back together. Barbara and he had a relationship of professionalism with an underbelly of good humor that went back to when they were kids in middle school. She knew how to call him out on his shit and form a rational thought before he could get his jaw off the ground. Like—right now, where his Wanda smiled at him, half-wounded and partially annoyed.

 

Mouth parting to conjure a word, Dick knew that he didn’t have to. He offered a sheepish smile as the music faded into a slow song.

 

“May I have this dance?” Artemis asked.

 

Both Fairy God Parents turned around, meeting eyes with Artemis and Kaldur. The archer flashed a smile, eyes glimmering impishly. ( _That_ was who Babs got her naughty side from, Dick lamented.) Um. Tugging the collar of his dress shirt, Dick looked between Babs and Artemis, then to Kaldur, who’d apparently decided to relax.

 

“You won’t let me say no, anyway,” Babs pointed out. She grabbed Kaldur by the hand, a smile on her face as he ducked his head in acknowledgement.

 

A grin fell across the blonde’s face. She took Dick by the hand and looked to him, adamant. Her free hand brushed the flower Kaldur put in her hair earlier. “We can switch back later.”

 

Which was how Dick Grayson found himself twirling on the dance floor with his best friend’s ex-girlfriend. His head spun, an incoherent sound leaking out of his mouth as soon as Artemis made eye contact with him. They stood parallel to each other, with the woman he once saw as an older sister folding a hand over his, and guiding his free one to her waist. Bare waist, thanks to that hula skirt.

 

Artemis noticed his discomfort immediately. “Don’t flatter yourself, Dick. As cute as your butt is, dating you would be like dating my little brother.”

 

“One night with me would probably change that.” Green contacts narrowed, voice haggard. He voiced a displeasured _‘ow!’_ , then laughed at her smirk. “Of course knowing you and _me_ , Arty, it’d dissolve into a terrible game of Scrabble.”

 

“And then I’d kick your ass for making up words,” she said.

 

“Yeah. You would.” He smiled to her tiresomely and scanned her face. There was no animosity, no hate. But the thought of the small velvet box came back to mind, nearly running him over as he reminded himself he was dancing with Wally’s almost-fiancée. Based off the redhead, he knew the pair had not seen each other since the move-out. The way Wally reacted, however—after their one night stand and nearly a _two_ night stand…pressed against Dick’s nerves. He mentally slapped himself and tried to forget about it. But couldn’t.

 

Hard to forget how annoyed and disgusted Wally looked, when his best friend noticed it.

 

“I can’t do this,” Dick murmured softly. Halfway through the song, he detached himself from the blonde and humbly stuffed his hands in his pockets. Artemis looked ready to badger him with questions, and—really. He couldn’t do this.  

 

They’d been together five years. Dick even humored himself in their early college years that Arty and Wally would get married after midterms. He just didn’t expect the confirmation of Wally’s proposal to _hurt_ so much.

 

Tugging at his collar, Dick stepped closer to the door and sighed loudly. Luckily everyone else was too busy with the music to make a scene out of it. He needed some air.  To his surprise, he felt a warm hand at his forearm.

 

“You going to get some air?” Artemis asked, reading his mind. Her grip was firm, gaze suddenly twisting.

 

Biting his lip, Dick nodded.

 

For a moment, hesitation passed through the girl’s features. She looked over her shoulder, where Kaldur and Barbara had stopped dancing in favor of getting some drinks. Then, the corner of her lip curled upward. “Good. I need to talk to you anyway.”

 

“Okay.” _Greeaat_. “You’re…not going to make me spar with you again, are you?”

 

“Nah. I don’t think you want a thorough ass-kicking tonight.”

 

They relocated in a room furthest away from the gym. The Main-Ops center was busy for whatever reason, with heroes that were too anxious to party. (That, or some Leaguers had relocated there for some private fun. Dick shivered at the thought.) Instead, Artemis guided him to an upper level, where a room jutted out like a balcony.

 

They stood silently for a while. Dick unbuttoned his cufflinks and pulled his sleeves to his elbows before chucking off the fairy wings. Artemis hung over the railing, with long tan legs hooked together at the ankles. She stared at the constellations and the half-crescent shape of the organic green and blue earth that glowed at the edge of the windows. The faint sound of music, and the loud hum of the A/C cancelled out all other thoughts.

 

Then, Artemis spoke. “You haven’t been happy in a long time, have you?”

 

Not blindingly so, since he took up the title as Robin. Dick leaned over next to her, placing less than a foot of distance between them. “Have you?”

 

“Don’t avoid the question.” Blonde hair swished, cascading over a light, bronze-colored spine. Gray eyes looked to him from a corner, with Artemis’s soft cheek pressed against her callused hand. A smile etched across her lips, small and wary. “But yes. I am.”

 

The way her expression changed reminded him of M’gann only a few months ago when they were retrieving their teammates. Warmth tingled in his chest. He had a feeling either one of them would confront him eventually. It was just what they did.

 

“Dick, you used to be this…little shit.” Artemis wiggled her fingers, making choking gestures with her hands. The smile on her face was still benevolent—humorous, was the better word. She paused, resting her chin over her wrists, and looked to him, almost pitying. “I didn’t come back to the team to see you sulk.”

 

He waited, watching her expression change.

 

“You going to say something?” she asked. “Dick, I’m not Wally, but I know you. We _all_ know you—I’ve just got the balls to actually _ask_.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Dick murmured. He leaned over the railing and traced his names in the stars. Turning around, he rested his elbows against the railing and shut his eyes. “Did you ever fall for someone, but…the timing was off?”

 

This time, the team’s archer turned her full body to meet his gaze. Her eyes narrowed, the good humor in her demeanor dwindling, and she closed her eyes. Artemis drew in a sharp breath. This was as hard on her as it was for him, after all. “No. I can’t say that I have.”

 

The timing was _never_ right.

 

Because he was in love with Wally.

 

Even when he was thirteen, combating his sexuality and wondering why several crushes on girls didn’t measure up to one _dumbass_ boy. When he was fourteen, and Wally committed to having a serious girlfriend, and he was _loyal_ enough not to act on his jealousy.

 

He wanted to hate Wally West _so much_ —give up on him, and he couldn’t.

 

“I kind of suspected it, you know. When we were still kids,” Artemis muttered. It made a bucket of ice water douse Dick from head to toe.

 

He blinked, staring at her in surprise.

 

“You remember the mission to…the Gay Club? Boy’s Night Out?” She met his eyes and swung an arm over the railing. “I mean. I suspected _before_ that, too, but…” She trailed off.

 

“Artemis.” Dick’s voice dropped from there. He wasn’t sure what to say. That night fleshed out in his head, back when he was fourteen and she was sixteen. He dressed up, just like he was now, in a ridiculous outfit and kissed Wally for the first time. Played it off as though it was for the mission. But—it was the first time in _months_ they were able to see each other since getting girlfriends. Everything about that night—with the arguments and ridiculous excuses—Dick thought he’d forgotten. Except for how Wally pressed his forehead against his neck and muttered something about _Sweet Pea._

 

“I never got between you two and your bromance. Don’t get me wrong, but giving someone an ultimatum between his girlfriend and his best friend only works for idiots who’s out to sever relationships. Plus…I was pretty certain that he’d pick you over me. But,” Artemis added thoughtfully, eyes falling to the floor below them, “I was scared. If he chose me over you.”

 

“I wouldn’t have let him choose me over you, Arty.”

 

“You spent our early days being his best friend and making sure he didn’t screw things up with me. And in the past few months you’ve avoided it because it could have compromised our entire mission.” She played with the lei around her neck and turned around to mimic his stature. Artemis’s gaze hardened and she reached over to place a hand on his shoulder. “I get it. That’s what a best pal is for. But that’s…why I’m not entirely opposed to you having feelings for him.”

 

He continued to stare at her, hesitation cocooning his shock. Face twisting into a grimace, Dick shook his head and jerked away to press a hand to his face. The night at the diner came back to mind, where he hoped her implication would’ve dropped there. Looking in the slits between his fingers, he saw Artemis glaring. Ugh. “That’s not how it works, Arty. It cant work that way. _God._ ”

 

She didn’t even know Wally planned on proposing. Probably shouldn’t have—so Dick shoved the thought in a mental pocket furthest from his mind.

 

“Don’t even.” Her tone lifted lightly and she nudged him in the arm. “You deserve some happiness in your life. I told you a month ago and I’ll tell you now. You’ve got my blessing. Okay?”

 

His chest tightened. Dick looked to her, taking in the words heavily. For some reason, it felt like _something_ was lifted off his shoulders.

 

Even if it was a sliver, it helped.

 

“Okay,” he said finally. Dick ducked his head back, letting all the blood flow to his brain. Cosmo’s fairy wings were sitting in a sad corner, forgotten.

 

“You really do love him,” Artemis said quietly after they stopped talking. “Don’t you?”

 

Even with all of the crap that’d gone down in the past few months. Dick’s eyes squeezed shut with a short, pathetic laugh. _Yeah._ “Yeah. I really do.”

 

**xxx**

A week later, Wally lost complete feeling and function in the fingers of his dead arm. He could no longer curl them around something or use them instinctively, but like the rest of the numbness he’d learned to adjust to it. (Or mute his anxiety.) Thankfully because of November air he was able to stuff his hands in gloves and dress in layers like his mother nagged him to since he moved out. It…was enough to keep Conner from questioning him, while they waltzed through the streets of Keystone City and mapped out apartment complexes.

 

“Thanks for coming with me, man.” Wally smiled to his old teammate and hunched his shoulders warmly to his ears. “Easier to scope out the place out and discuss it with someone so I don’t go crazy. Helps that you know how to measure the place with your eyes, too.”

 

Conner nodded, but still looked out of place. He cringed as Donny cried in the blue baby carrier. They settled down on a bus bench while Wally cursed beneath his breath and plucked the boy up. “Remind me again why we’re taking care of the twins?”

 

Green eyes glanced up, noting the discomfort on Conner’s face. Wally split into a grin and threw the diaper bag in the half-Kryptonian’s direction. “Because if we pretend we’re a happy married couple and play the big-bad hairy bears with the two babies, the landlord will give me a lower rate.”

 

Supey made a disgruntled noise, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

 

Biting back a snicker, Wally cradled Donny’s head and placed him back in the baby carrier. “The station begged Aunt Iris to go back to report news and Flash is on a mission with the League. I’ve got the next hour free, and you’re a great pack mule.”

 

“You really aren’t as funny as you think you are.” Conner looped both baby carriers on his arms like bracelets and let Wally sling the baby bag over his neck.

 

“I…” Wally’s eyes softened and he stroked his chin. “I also wanted the company. Other than my cousin, you know?” The past week had been an empty void. Bart came over often, but evening missions still caught most of his attention, along with patrol with the Flash. And Dick seemed more interested in the Team than spending time with him.

 

Feeling his gut twist sourly in his stomach, Wally decided not to let the thought get the best of him. Dick wouldn’t answer any of his calls—and the redhead was getting more pissed that he even bothered, more than anything. Nightwing was needed elsewhere and they were testing each other’s tempers again. He didn’t know _how_ this was working.

 

Even with both babies on his wrists, Conner easily tapped Wally on the shoulder. “I was still talking about the twins, Wally.”

 

“Oh.” Blink. Running a hand through his hair—Wally paused. He couldn’t feel it against his fingers. Shrugging, Wally fiddled with the notepad and the list of addresses written down for apartment buildings. “Uncle Barry’s disappointed that he can’t take care of the twins himself, but he doesn’t have a choice.”

 

The hope was that Flash would be so preoccupied with his newborn children that he would forget about Zoom. When Wally proposed his idea of letting him handle it, neither Bart nor Barry were supportive. His old mentor was worried about League missions, Central City, the forensic department, spending time with Aunt Iris, spending time with Aunt Iris _and_ the twins, and spending time with his future grandson. Even the Fastest Man Alive had too much on his plate—which was why Wally didn’t mind babysitting his baby cousins.

“So are we going to talk about your emotional inability to come to terms with your feelings for Dick while we’re apartment hunting?”

 

Wally tripped over a bus sign and fell flat on his face. _“Whoa!_ ”

 

For a moment, he allowed his aching nose to throb, eyes glued to hard cement. _What the fuck._

 

“What the fuck?” He flopped over on his back and stared at the boots of his old teammate. Sunlight overshadowed the callous look on the dark-haired teen’s face, and Wally twitched. The other man simply stood there, both babies dangling from his arms.

 

Blue eyes watched him expectantly, scrutinizing every part of Wally with disinterest.

 

Wally’s mouth filled with an inhuman sound. He ran the entire sentence through his head again. _“What the fuck_ , Supey?”

 

“Secret identity,” the other man said flatly—mocking all the years of everyone else insisting there was a difference between ‘Conner’ and ‘Superboy.’ Finally, annoyed with the ex-speedster’s lack of reaction, Conner dug a shoe beneath Wally’s back and forced him on his feet. With the usual agility and grace—it worked. Supey did nothing more than stand like a tree and rock both peacefully co-existing babies in his arms. “You and Dick—”

 

“Me and Dick—Dick and I—are _not_ emotionally inable—unable—whatever, and I am _not_ coming to terms with feelings for someone.” Wally slapped Conner on the chest and marched forward, notepad in his hand.

 

Conner stalked after him in a less-defined pace, staggering to keep both babies secure. “Then why am I here instead of him?”

 

“Because you had a _free hour_ away from your classes and because he can’t be away from his precious team for more than two seconds without being punished for it,” Wally barked brusquely. He felt his cheeks flame pink and bumped his head into a street light. “Now _shut up._ ”

 

Before he could say anything else, a hand tugged him sharply by the back of his hoody. Supey pulled him back harshly, until Wally’s spine rebounded off Conner’s chest. It rumbled with an amused laugh. “You really believe that?”

 

“No,” Wally hissed, and he crossed his arms. But he didn’t want to think about it. Nightwing left in such a haste the other week…with the harsh words lashed out so quickly that Wally couldn’t summon a response. Not a _reasonable one_ , other than remembering Dick promised to be patient with him.

 

With…whatever they were. Whatever they could be.

 

Swallowing hard, he wouldn’t have heard Dawn’s crying if Conner didn’t shove her toward his stomach. He pulled the girl into his useful arm and rocked her gently while Conner watched. Maybe it was a bad idea to take the big lug with him while he went apartment hunting.

 

Opening his mouth to speak, Conner cut him off again. He waved his hand dismissively (in a very _human_ way, less-mannequin like). For the first time, Wally noticed the strain in his friend’s tired expression.

 

Gulping hard, Wally’s expression sobered. His grip tightened over his new baby cousin and he readjusted his footing. “Something wrong?”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

“This is the first time we’ve seen each other since June, Wally.”

 

Oh. “I…” Staring at the other man in disbelief, the redhead wasn’t sure what to say. Wally’s mouth parted hesitantly, running the months through his head. “That’s not. Really? Must have slipped my mind.” Before that, he remembered declining an invitation to go to the annual New Year’s party at the mountain, for the third year in a row. But.

 

After his immediate retirement, Wally was eager to go to the parties and see his friends. But each year as they got stronger, the team took on missions that would span a few days to a month long. Artemis’s “ _death_ ” wasn’t the first undercover mission they’d ever done.

 

More time was invested in the team, and Artemis and he were nothing more than civilians that got in the way. Wally stopped going—because it was better to not see any of his friends at all than be treated like a nuisance.

 

Eventually, the realization that Wally would never be the same hero he started out as sunk in. Once he got Artemis to agree, they simply turned down every invitation. Going to parties and acknowledging his problems meant going to parties knowing he shouldn’t come back.

 

“Sorry,” Wally half-apologized, half-lied. Eventually he closed himself off altogether. It was easier that way. Looking back up to Conner’s eyes, he noticed the disinterest and the furrow of ebony eyebrows. “It’s. Not like I hate you guys or something. You’re busy, I’m busy…how about I buy you lunch?”

 

A hesitant look crossed Conner’s face. He squinted. Finally, “I can skip my next class.”

 

Wally sighed in relief. “Great.”

 

The next hour went by reasonably. Four of the apartment complexes were within ten blocks of the STAR Labs, Keystone division. His mother insisted after graduation, Wally move back in the family. The offer was nice—but after being alone for so long in the past few months, he preferred to be by himself.

 

It didn’t stop him from looking at two-bedroom apartment. The rates he heard, along with the confirmation whether or not he could bring pets, only made him uncomfortable.

 

After the fourth criminal arrest, Conner and he decided to eat inside a small café called _Melody’s_ , with a sling set aside for both children.

 

Conner’s nose wrinkled in frustration as he glared outside. “You really want to move to a place like this?”

 

“Why not?” The redhead asked. Beneath the table, he slid a glove off and rubbed his stiff fingers. The twins were peacefully asleep, despite all of the havoc. Looking back up, Wally was met with a glare. “I know the crime rate’s a little… _high._ But this STAR Labs is close enough to run to.”

 

“Does Flash patrol Keystone too?”

 

“Once in a while.” Shaking his head, Wally stirred the straw in his drink and leaned back in his seat. The moment his eyes saw the building across the street, he slumped further in his seat. _Blush._ Otherwise the place his spasms became _unstable_ and led to his fight with Dick. And then…everything else. Wally banged his head against the table.

 

“Wally—?”

 

“What?” Shit. “I mean.” Peering up, he was met with Conner’s frown. “Yeah.” They stared at each other, then Wally tucked his chin over his forearms. “Ever since the Flash rolled in at Central City, Keystone’s police department decided to do better. They keep a tight lock, but that only means the baddies get tougher. If the Flash actually relocated here, I’m sure worse would follow.”

 

“The proof is in the atmosphere.” Conner frowned unpleasantly and inspected his fancy-looking sandwich. He bit off half of it without warning, gaze still fixated on the ex-speedster. “You wouldn’t be able to stand still while living here.”

 

 _I have no choice_ , Wally thought instantly. He picked at his own sandwich with a spork, meshing a slice of chicken breast between the prongs. Looking beneath his eyebrows, he shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out when I move here.”

 

Most of the places assured him he could place a deposit anytime. He found a one-bedroom, unfurnished, and utilities paid for within the monthly rate. Most of the furniture in his current house was gained after years of garage sales and reasonable deals by Ikea—even the mattress.

 

 _Though I doubt he’d be happy sleeping in my ex-girlfriend’s spot._ Thought crossing his mind, Wally’s cheeks flamed pink.

 

He was forced out of his thoughts when Conner kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”

 

“You’re really not subtle when something is bothering you.” Without an apology, Conner’s gaze narrowed to him. He picked the tomatoes out of his sandwich and waved them around in the crepe paper.

 

Wally guffawed. “ _Dude!”_

“When you asked me last night if I’d be willing to come with you, I knew something must have been up. You two have been getting along since the invasion blew over. Suddenly the guy who’s been leading Young Justice for over three years now is taking time off to see you.” Conner shook his head and sipped his drink. His gaze narrowed, lips tight. “Then, he’s taking every mission left and right to avoid you. You are—or _were_ his best friend. Who else do you see in your free time?”

 

No one. Though the _kick in the shin_ was definitely evidence why. Nursing his leg, Wally glared angrily at him. “And _what_ exactly do you expect me to tell you? Supey, I brought you here to look at apartments and threaten tenants with me. _Not_ cripple my leg and stick your nose in my business.”

 

“Why did you ask me of all people to come with you?”

 

“ _Because I thought you’d be the last person to judge me on my goddamn life!_ ”

 

The words echoed through the café, drawing attention from nearby tables. Wally’d slammed his fists into his plate, the impact sounding like shattering glass. Both Donny and Dawn cried, disturbed by the sudden burst of sound. Conner’s mouth parted in surprise, obviously not expecting the outburst. His gaze lowered to the fist slammed against Wally’s plate, and the other that barely resembled a hand. He looked disgusted.

 

And it clicked in Wally’s head. “Wow.”

 

He just yelled at one of his best friends.

 

_Wow._

And had gotten worked up over nothing.

 

**Wow.**

Settling back in his seat, bystanders opted to ignore him. Wally’s eyes widened twice their size, his jaw numb and agape.

 

That…half-smug, too-knowing look disappeared from Conner’s face, this time replaced with actual concern. The babies calmed down after some shushing. Conner, however, leaned forward. “Okay, Wally—”

 

“Ihaven’tbeendoingwell.” Oh, god. “I, uh—guess I should be locked in a cage, huh?” Wally laughed quietly. It didn’t reach his eyes.

 

There was a moment of silence, with music humming in the background. Then, Conner’s hand tickled his shoulder. “Tell me.”

 

A lot of things. Starting with the fact Wally could barely feel the hand that was clamped over his head to tune out every other sound. Suddenly his head hurt, and— _god,_ this was a mistake. Wally flinched when he realized Conner was touching his dead arm.

 

“I miss him,” he admitted instead. The sincerity of Wally’s voice even surprised himself. Peering up, Wally’s expression twisted, guilt-stricken and frustrated. Because above all else, it was the truth. “I miss…you. Everyone. Being Kid Flash.” Before Supey could intervene, tell him to come back, he added, “—but him. I miss my best friend at my side every day, okay? Even more than I miss Artemis.”

 

Conner studied his face thoughtfully. “What happened?”

 

Snort. “Do you want the long version, or the really butchered version where you’ll still like me in the end?”

 

The situation came out, with relief flooding through Wally because of it. The past month without Artemis was spent secluded at his internship being poked like a lab rat, or getting the same treatment from his little cousin. Worst off, he had to hide everything from his best friend. (Those parts—that didn’t come out. Wally spent too many years hiding the numbness to tell someone now—especially to the guy who would force him to tell _everyone._ ) It was nice to have someone, other than the sources of his stress, to discuss things with.

 

Having Dick back from missions and without being a superhero were the best few weeks of his life. But three years of frustration came out between them in a few exchanges of words. Wally grimaced, reminding himself of Dick’s disheartened state before he left.

 

 _We don’t need emotional ties to have sex with each other._  

 

Apparently to the Tactless Boy of Steel, it was still too much TMI. Superboy rubbed his temples out of a super-headache and grimaced. “You two had a one night stand.”

 

“Can’t be best bros until you have one, apparently.” Wally noted Conner’s chair looked an inch further away than before his explanation. Rubbing his own head, Wally took a sharp breath and leaned his back. He stuffed his dead hand into his jeans.

 

“That’s kind of… _compromising,_ Wally.”

 

“I _liked_ him, alright? A stupid crush from back from when we were kids. Maybe that’s why having sex—uh, _tangoing_ —” Wally nervously eyed the kids. “—wasn’t hard for me. Er—us.” Why neither of them stopped. “After I started dating Arty, it was easier to put it in the back of my mind. And, oh—no. I loved Arty, okay? It’s not like I was thinking of him, when I was with her in the—uh. You look uncomfortable.”

 

“I’m very.” Conner grimaced.

 

Wally waved his hand dismissively and bit the inside of his mouth. “I just. He used to ask me every waking moment if I’d come back to the team. Then after a while, he just…stopped asking. It’s not like when we were kids. We get into an argument over everything, and when we don’t—we pretend he’s not wondering why I’m not on the field.”

 

“He still cares. You two are adults now.” Blue eyes flashed contemplatively. Finished with his sandwich, Conner crossed his arms over his torso. “You might as well—”

 

“What? Go up to him and see if he wants to _date_? A month ago, I still had a girlfriend. I had a ring I was going to give her. If that worked out, then maybe I would be sitting here right now and talking to you as her fiancé instead of her ex.” Wally shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Mom, Dad, Iris, and everyone else were encouraging him to move on. He just didn’t know _where_. “I had a moment of _weakness_ when I bought that ring. He _knows_ that. But now we’ve changed the game back to like when we were kids. I spent all that time torn between the two of them, and now I…I don’t have Arty. But I don’t have Dick either. I don’t think that’s good for us. Besides. Based on what you’ve said, it’s obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with me either.”

 

Silence. Wally couldn’t have been happier to keep his mind away from his jerky best friend.

 

Well—friend. They barely saw each other anymore. It was going to stay that way, from the looks of it.

 

“He looked miserable last week at the party, you now,” Conner confessed. He looked out the window, biting the inside of his mouth.

 

Wally cocked his head. “Really?”

 

“Fairies are usually lighthearted creatures, too.” The hero rotated his shoulder, which translated into an awkward shrug. They locked eyes, and the redhead consciously gulped. Conner’s eyebrows knitted together, this time less guarded. Sad. “Are you miserable without him?”

 

The ex-speedster barely thought about it. “Yes.”

 

He was miserable without seeing that smile; even more without hearing that laugh. Without being able to watch the way Dick’s hair swung in his face, and how he babbled for hours about made-up words in the dictionary. He missed the ache he had, after laughing too hard at a dorkish Rob.

 

He missed being Kid Flash and Robin.

 

A loud sigh left his lips, and Wally slammed his face into the table again.

 

“Good,” was Supey’s pleased response.

 

Just then, the entire restaurant shook, guests screaming from the impact that was _definitely_ not an earthquake. With years of experience, Supey immediately stood to his feet, fists clenched. He cocked his head in the ex-speedster’s direction, mouth open—

 

Wally dove for the twins in the middle of the collision. “Gotta take care of the kids. Sorry—first priority.” It was weird standing awkwardly while Superboy defended the greater good—but what choice did he have?

 

Fortunately Conner agreed. He nodded, replacing the fingerless gloves over his hands before nudging his head in the direction of the door. “You stay here. I’ve got it.”

 

“Right-o.” Wally offered a thumbs-up.

 

Through the havoc, Superboy was able to slink through the crowd of people who stood up to see the action. Wally himself stirred his soda and watched the TV. Eventually, whatever disturbance Con actually found would wind up on TV.

 

Ten minutes passed by, with no sign of one of his good friends. Wally stood straighter in his seat, frown tight across his face. He looked to the twins, sniffed both, and checked the time on his phone.

 

Fifteen minutes.

 

Twenty minutes.

 

Twenty-three.

 

“C’mon, Con,” the redhead whispered under his breath. His hand tightened around the phone, eyes falling back to the twins—

 

_SWISH_

—who disappeared.

 

A yellow blur torpedoed past him, and in the blink of an eye, the twins were gone _._

_What the—_

 

“Dawn? _Donny?!_ ” Without a second thought, he flung himself on the trail of the yellow blur, feet slamming into the ground. Wally’s eyes went rabid. “ _DONNY_! _DAWN!”_

 

_No._

 

He hastened his pace, torpedoing after the yellow blur he could _barely_ see ahead of him. Energy coiled in his stomach, crying in each footstep with relief. _What the fuck?_ Jaw tightening, Wally’s gaze narrowed to the bastard who _stole his cousins._

 

“ZOOM!” 

Wally sped through the sidewalks and streets of Keystone City, facing the bridge that led to Central. Energy burst through his body, yowling as he pulled himself into full throttle. The other speedster looked over his shoulder and _laughed._

Wind whistled through the redhead’s ears and slapped him in the face. Hiking his speed to his limit (his blood and flesh cried in pain), his hand brushed against Zoom’s shoulder blade. Wally leapt forward five feet, clawing a hand into the back of Zoom’s neck.

 

The other speedster voiced his distaste and jammed an elbow into his stomach.

 

“ _AGH_!”

 

“You don’t think you’re actually a match for me, do you?”

 

It was eerily scary how neither Dawn nor Don reacted. Wally shouted in pain, feet lifting off the ground, before lunging toward the man once again. “ _Depends._ On a scale of one to _you’re dead_ , where do you think _kidnapping my cousins_ puts you?”

 

“The last time I checked, boy, they’re Allens.” Zoom spun backward, baring his teeth behind his disgusting yellow mask, and jutted a palm at Wally’s chest. “You’re not _._ ”

 

“ _AH!”_ Wally collided into the ground shoulder first, slamming his body into dirt. He bounced against the grass and ricocheted off a tree.

 

Zoom ran straight past him, tossing a laugh into the air and letting it echo behind him.

 

No. No, no, no, no. _Shit._

Wally turned onto his stomach and slammed a bloody fist into the ground.

 

“You wanna go, Zoomy?” he breathed, anger boiling in his chest. Wally bolted, ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs. “Let’s go _._ ”

 


	11. Pain, Secret, Six Months, Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first priority was to get the twins.

The first priority was to get the twins.

 

Rage filled every step Wally took as he sped into city limits. Blood flew from his nose, smudging and splattering behind him as he torpedoed through the streets and other cars. He could _barely_ see the yellow speedster that whizzed past shrieking civilians.

 

Which meant Zoom was going slow enough to play a game with Wally.

 

His feet crushed the ground, body splicing through the air and pivoting through the throng of civilians as Zoom made sharp lefts and sharper rights—

 

Wait a minute. _Duh._ As Zoom zig-zagged through another row of buildings, Wally spun to the left side of the building.

 

He charged forward, slamming straight into Zoom.

 

“What the—” _BOOM._

 

Zoom went flying backwards while Wally swooped the twins by the baby carriers. The redhead charged past the speedster, ignoring the angered shriek in the background. He ran the street signs through his head as he past them and darted down the road into the suburbs.

 

The door to the Garricks’ Residence was flung open, baby carriers settled onto the couch before Wally made a U-turn.

 

Slamming the door behind him, Wally’s eyes darted in all directions. Empty. School was still in session, and most adults were at work. He thanked the _world_ that Jay and Joan were retired and would take care of the babies. Better care than he could now.

 

Wally panted, his lungs singeing in pain. He fought the urge to clutch his chest and ignored the burning sensation in his legs. It wouldn’t be long until Zoom got here. _If_ he got here.

 

Gritting his teeth, he rushed in the direction he came from and—

 

“Found you.” Zoom shot toward him and slammed Wally into the ground. He chortled, voice hissing into the air.

                                                                                                                      

Electricity bled in Wally’s ears. He choked, knuckles stabbing into his throat as the other man swept him off his feet. Green eyes darted in several directions, with the air slapping Wally against his back. Zoom only laughed. _Harshly._

 

The bigger speedster swung Wally by the leg and dragged him across the ground. Wally shouted, head ramming into asphalt. He twisted his body, bare palms dragging against rocks. Jaw tightening, he swiveled his body and dug nails into a building.

 

Zoom staggered back for just one moment. _Good._ Biting his lip, Wally hooked his ankle around the other speedster’s—causing Zoom to actually trip over the ground. He hit dirt with the edge of his jaw and tasted both blood and grass in his mouth. Wally rolled against the ground and hit his ribs into a fire hydrant.

 

_Dammit._

Before the pain could settle in, Zoom plucked the other speedster off the ground. He raised Wally off the ground and inspected him. The bound redhead waved his legs over the ground, clutched the grip Zoom had over his shirt, and curled his other hand into a—

 

He couldn’t. “What the—”

 

Wally’s eyes darted to his bloodied hand—his _dead_ hand that was covered in black-and-red slits, swollen, with fingers that were stiff as a long piece of wood. Dammit. Wally curled his hand experimentally; writhing against the grip Zoom had on him, and muffled a shout of pain. His ribs were _searing._

Yet at that moment, Zoom was focused on the hand that couldn’t fold at Wally’s will; the one that threatened to dangle at his side. His face twisted in eerie amusement, eyes burning holes into Wally’s skull. He shook Wally like an instrument.

 

“Let. Me. _Go_ ,” Wally snarled. He tried to kick, feeling a foot dangle limply in the air. The formula was already working in his head. Too much stress, added onto running at an abnormal speed. His body cocooned itself, refusing to allow Wally to inch further and be _stronger_ than the lunatic above him.

 

He was burnt out.

 

His dead arm lay limply to the side, and Wally saw black spots at the corner of his vision.

 

Zoom threw him against the ground and yanked the young man by his dead and bloody arm. He squinted at it, and smirked. “Jay Garrick is significant because he is the first Flash. Barry Allen is the Fastest Man Alive.” _Wait a minute—_ “His twins and his grandson—they all are genetic offspring due to breeding. And what are you?”

 

“The first Kid Flash,” Wally glared. He pulled back—and was yanked forward. Zoom kneed him in the stomach. “ _Ah—!_ ”

 

“A failed copy who can’t use test tubes.” Zoom broke into another run, stringing Wally along against the asphalt. He looked over his shoulder, maniacal grin settled across his lips, and narrowed his eyes at the grimace across Wally’s face.

 

Green eyes were planted to his feet, where the soles of his shoes dragged across the ground. Wally cringed—and he felt the knife stabbing his tendon. The pain carved a path up his calves with dangerous nails, and his entire body faltered over the ground. He tossed a scowl in Zoom’s direction, with his vision collecting with black stars.

 

“Not an Allen, not a Thawne,” Zoom murmured demurely. He yanked Wally closer, so his other hand could pierce the other speedster’s ribcage. “Just a piece of trash we purebreds kick on the road on our way to something better, you _half-breed_ _West._ ”

 

The pain climbed up the rest of Wally’s body, noise bleeding in his ears. He choked on one breath, two, three, and felt the energy that once worked for him slap him in the face and deny him any relief. Wally shouted, debris embedding into his eyes.

 

Every step Zoom took only made the pain come _faster_.

 

The speedster took steps that embedded into the ground, with electricity that surrounded the both of them. Zoom hummed to it, Wally shouted and wriggled against it. The yellow speedster hauled the redhead over his shoulder.

 

Looking at their intended pathway, Wally’s eyes bulged out of his sockets and his teeth shattered against his tongue. They went _faster_ , so the pain surrounding him came _faster._ Zoom rocketed forward, his flesh and heinous yellow suit blinking white. Electricity surrounded them like storm clouds and took every chance to fire at Wally.

 

Just like in Antarctica.

 

The overall pain struck Wally to the core, until his insides were incinerated beneath the hollow shell of skin. Wally’d shut his eyes a long time ago. He let the pain of his own numbness consume him, shouting and spasming against everything else.

 

When he opened his eyes again, Wally was in a crater.

 

Asphalt dented around him, with the lowest point where his body was. Wally saw nothing more than the ripped rise and fall of his chest, and a leg that was bent at a crooked angle. He could feel the blood panicking in his chest to his stomach, and from one shoulder to his elbow. Screams echoed, people coming in and out of the colored points of his vision.

 

Through a black spot, he could faintly hear boots mount into the brim of the crater.

 

“ _Wally?_ ”

 

_Conner?_

Through a faintly colored edge, Wally made out the combat boots of one of his oldest friends. He moved his head an inch, and felt bile edging out of his mouth. Green eyes narrowed to the sound in question. Sure enough—he could vaguely make out the sign for _Melody’s._

“What just happened to y--?” Superboy collapsed to his knees, ear pressed against Wally’s chest. Too-blue eyes stared at him in disbelief, mouth agape. He turned his head back to the café—then back to Wally.

 

Wait.

 

“Did you see me inside?” Wally asked, voice gravelly. He could hear sirens sounding in the distance.

 

Conner twitched, clearly not trusting of him. “Yes.”

 

That explained what took so long. Wally reached out, his palm covered in blood, cuts, and stinging swat, and curled it against Conner’s jeans. “W-We need to get out of here. Far away. The m-me in there is going to be fine, so are the twins.”

 

That made Conner less doubtful. He straightened. “We can go to—”

 

“N-Not Central. _No where need the fam._ ” Wally’s hand trembled. “Don’t tell the team. Not yet.”

 

“What happened? Why were you screaming on the ground?”

 

 _He saw that too?_ Eyes squeezing shut, Wally did the best he could to sit up. He couldn’t. “You’ll need to carry me.”

 

“Why?’ Conner demanded. His hand squeezed the speedster’s shoulder tightly, helping the rest of the redhead to stand up.

 

Wally shuddered, looking at the feet that touched the ground. “Because I can’t feel my legs.”

 

**xxx**

****

_The armor was form-fitting and nearly pitch black. Nightwing traded in his thick ninja tabis in favor of thicker boots. It looked less like a uniform he would have taken to the gym, and fit the anxiety that was obvious across his face. He remained on the platform even two hours after the last mission, breaking into the new uniform. His hands fell to the escrima sticks more than once, using them in a defensive maneuver that looked awkward if it were still Robin, the Boy Wonder._

_But it was still Dick Grayson. Wally’s Dick Grayson._

_He must have watched at the end of the corridor for a good twenty minutes, how his best friend filled in the uniform a lot better than Robin ever did._

_Wally observed every aspect of his best friend, who filled out nicely in his sixteen years of existence. He looked bolder—better, with a somberness to him. Curling his fingers into the juncture of his other forearm, Wally bit the inside of his mouth and moved to rub his fingers. They were numb, like when they’d fall asleep on him for sitting on his hand too long. (Not that he did that. Because. Well, that was weird.)_

_It was just a good thing that he didn’t have an attack while out on the field today._

_“No cape?” Wally called out._

_His voice echoed off cave walls, no doubt heard by the teen. Dick froze in battle stance. He cocked his head, and a smile spread across his lips. Blue eyes suddenly popped out, fingers brushing against a hidden button against his mask. “No cape.”_

_“Shame,” the other teen muttered halfheartedly. He walked into their Main-Ops room and waltzed onto the platform goofy enough for Dick to laugh. “How’s Jason doing?”_

_“No secret-IDs at the cave,” was the instant reply. Dick folded his arms over his chest, a good-natured smile curling on his lip. “But—if you have to ask. Yeah, he’s doing well.”_

_“Good. And,” Wally’s tone dropped, his eyebrows furrowing sheepishly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked between his heels. “You doing well?”_

_The smile on Dick’s face was penchant, but Wally knew asking that question was stupid. He knew how to read Dick better than anyone; better than any of the girlfriends that sought him out. That fact alone made Wally smut; superior to anyone who ever thought they were good enough for his best bro._

_“My best friend and his girlfriend—my two best friends just finished their last mission on the team successfully and I was promoted leader because Kaldur needed to cope with his personal life.” Dick picked up his eskrima sticks from the ground, rubbed them between the palms of his hands, and restrapped them onto his thigh. He paused, inspecting his new gloves before turning his head to his best friend._

_“Too much to handle at once?” Wally guessed, when there was a lapse in their conversation._

_Dick snorted. “I can handle everything just fine.”_

_“Wow.” Wally’s gaze narrowed pointedly, mirth curling in his smile. “A bit of an ego on that Dick, isn’t there?”_

_“Ha. Ha.” For a moment, the smile on Nightwing’s face seemed more honest. He slid a glove off his hand, making it seem like the sexiest thing in the world, and did the same with the other. Dick ran bare fingers through his hair and moved to get off the platform. “I guess I should make sure Jason hasn’t destroyed the Batcave just yet.”_

_Wally sped in front of him, blocking the sixteen-year-old’s pathway to the hall. He held his arms out, expression doubtful, but smile full. “Let’s spar.”_

_It goaded another snort. Dick’s face twisted, looking more childish than before, with a crooked smile that couldn’t maintain a serious demeanor. “I’d kick your ass.”_

_“You don’t know that for—”_

_“Yeah—” Nightwing hooked an ankle behind Wally’s leg and tripped him._

_“Oof! Dude!” Wally landed on his back, a groan spiraling out of his mouth, his head slamming into the ground. He looked up, nothing the impractical laugh that fluttered out of Dick’s mouth._

_“—I do.” Dick clutched his stomach, his high laughter turning into low chortles. He stood at the redhead’s feet, his expression twisted smugly, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Anything else?”_

_“Yeah.” The elder teen glared playfully at his best friend and rolled to his feet. Pulling the sleeve to his shirt to his elbows, Wally assumed is usually battle stance. “I let you have that one.”_

_This time, the smile faded. Dick’s stature tightened. He took long steps behind him toward the middle of the platform and put the gloves back on. “You sure you want to do that?”_

_Rocking between his feet, Wally nodded. “Definitely.”_

_“Okay.” The younger teen nodded stiffly and assumed a battle stance. The smile disappeared from his face, stature even more tense than when they began. They rotated around each other, noting the movements of their opponent. Wally forced the smile across his face._

_After a tense silence, Wally asked, “So what’s with the name change, anyway? Robin’s basically your thing.” Calling him Nighty just didn’t have the same effect. He wiggled his eyebrows, provoking a small smile from the other teen. Lunging forward, Wally threw a punch at his best friend._

_Nightwing ducked his head and blocked with his forearm. He pushed Wally back with his knee. “I had to step up as leader since Kaldur’s absence. You know that. Robin just wasn’t—”_

_“He’s my best friend.” Wally caught a blow, gripping his hand over Dick’s ankle as the other teen delivered a high kick. He stepped back, then looked up curiously to the hollow white lenses. The corner of his lip curled into a smile. For a moment, they paused—only staring at each other. “I’ve known the guy since he was like, yay big.” He gestured with his other hand, causing that dashing smile to spread._

_“Robin is just a stage name.” Dick twirled his body—and suddenly, he kicked Wally back with his free leg. “Just the second part of Batman and Robin. Bats needs one, but I don’t need to be it.”_

_“Oof!” Wally fell to the floor, jaw throbbing and elbows pressed against the ground. He looked up to the hand offered out at him and pushed to his feet. “Again.”_

_“Again?” The younger teen blinked._

_Wally nodded. “Again.”_

_Once more, they took opposing sides of the arena, battle stances placed. Wally raised his head, scrutinizing his best friend’s demeanor. They spun axels with their feet, waiting for one to provoke the other. Nightwing stepped forward, leg between Wally’s feet. They were close enough, so Wally could feel puffs of hot air against his skin. Close enough to be at eye-level. When did little Dickie turn into such a babe?_

_Biting the inside of his mouth, Wally swept down for a low kick. Dick leaped up, dodging with incredible graze before treading four steps back. He kicked Wally’s fist away when the redhead punched the air, and flung Wally against the ground._

_Again, Wally hit the platform with his back and cringed in pain. He seethed. Then—“Again.”_

_“You really want to get your ass kicked again?” Before anything, Dick addressed him. He reached out, helping the speedster off the ground. There was a mixture of amusement and irritation in his voice—but mostly a condemning tone. One that was waiting for Wally to leave._

_Taking in a sharp breath, Wally rubbed his aching jaw and raised his head. He curled his hand against Dick’s palm and tilted his head to inspect the other boy further. “Until you’re not angry at me anymore.”_

_He watched Dick freeze, the younger teen’s jaw tightening at the claim. Dick pulled his hand back, observing Wally observe him, and his lips curled into a frown. A minute passed, where neither said a word. Dick shook his head and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What makes you think I’m mad at you?”_

_“Because you’re my best pal. I’d be mad if you weren’t angry at me.” Wally twisted his footing, blocking Dick’s path to get away. He grabbed Dick by the arm, biting his lip when his numb fingers brushed on the underside of Dick’s wrist. “Dick, talk to me. Please.”_

_“I’m not—”_

_“Uh, yeah.” Grip tightening, Wally used his other hand to grab Dick’s attention. He tilted his head curiously, red eyebrows furrowing together, then searched for the hidden button on Nightwing’s mask._

_In a matter of seconds, cool blue eyes locked onto him, glistening with the hidden hesitation Wally’d anticipated. They were the same orbs that always made him lose his voice and make his heart skip a beat. Dick raised his head, almost in defiance, and shook off the speedster’s grip. He took in one long breath, then let it out with reluctance. “This needs to work.”_

_“Kaldur is going to do fine. He’s the best agent we’ve got.” Voice dropping, Wally moved in closer. His lips curled into a frown and he crossed his arms. “He’ll get up there, find out who the Light is. And when they least expect it, we’ll infiltrate.”_

_It was a risky plan—but by now, after three years into its creation, no one doubted Kaldur. It required strategic execution—something they were all beginning to learn as they got older. Got missions that were on par with the League’s._

_“C’mon, you and Kaldur made it foolproof,” he murmured. Wally’s gaze narrowed to those blue eyes, searching for an ounce of hope. “I trust you.”_

_For another moment, Dick was silent. He allowed himself to turn away from Wally’s expression, arms crossed over his chest. Dick shut his eyes, replacing the opaque lenses over his face. “And when it all blows over, you’ll still be in retirement.”_

_“Yeah.” Though Wally couldn’t conjure a different answer for that. He combed a hand through his hair. “I’ll still be in retirement.”_

_To his surprise, Dick’s shoulders hunched closer to his ears. He looked away, foot tapping against the ground and mouth still in a firm line. A twinge of guilt flickered in Wally’s stomach, and he ignored every instinct that demanded he told the truth._

_Why he was forcing himself to go into retirement._

_“I’ll miss you.” Wally brushed a hand over his best friend’s shoulder. They stood parallel to each other, the tips of their toes touching, and his gaze took in Dick’s eyes. Red hair fell into his gaze as he pleaded Dick to look at him._

_His heart skipped four beats until Dick relented, his hands falling to his sides. Beneath the thin mask, ebony eyebrows furrowed and the younger teen looked up._

_“Call me.” Wally gripped Nightwing by both shoulders. “If it gets rough. When it gets rough. I’m always here to call you out and tell you when you’re stupid. You’re my partner.”_

_“Thanks.” A quiet sigh left Dick’s mouth—maybe relief. The resident acrobat lowered his head, and they bumped noses. “I think I’m going to take you up on that offer.”_

_“Yeah you will.”_

_Silence. Wally noted every worry crease in the younger teen’s face, and felt the guilt consume his chest. Watching up close, he could see the ebony locks that wrinkled from Dick’s anxiety, and the lips that’d forgotten how to smile. His heart skipped a beat._

_Starting tomorrow, he would go off to Stanford University, and he’d no longer be Kid Flash._

_He’d never greet his best friend again as his partner._

_It’d only take a few days, he was sure, for Dick to be acquainted with someone else. For him to find someone who met his requirements for the team and to become his partner. Raquel was already sweet on him while girls in every continent swooned for that Dick Grayson charm. Wally had gotten used to watching from the sidelines, seeing that Disney-Prince-like smile that Dick flashed to every boy and girl that looked at him._

_And now—instead of making fun of every girl that checked Dick out, Wally would probably only hear about it over the phone. He would rot and singe in his own jealousy._

_“I should get out of this uniform,” Dick murmured. He swung out of Wally’s grip, picking apart both utility belts and his gloves. He looked over his shoulder when he stood four feet away, and tilted his head. “Unless you want to spar again.”_

_It was the first time all evening that Dick jested. The last that Wally would hear as Kid Flash, too. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, a soft smile curling across his face. “No. I. Trust me, my ass has been thoroughly kicked.”_

_They smiled at each other for what felt like ages, with only the echoes of Conner, M’gann, and Gar down the hall in the other room. Dick shifted his footing and touched a hand against the wall. He cleared his throat and cocked his head to the floor. “Ahem. You and Artemis…keep the plan in mind.”_

_Artemis._

_His girlfriend of three years, who was waiting for him in the souvenir room. Wally nodded gently. “Um. Yeah. Artemis.”_

_“Bye, KF—Wally.” Dick’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah. Bye, Wally.”_

_“Bye.”_

_He waited until his best friend turned around—and watched Dick leave._

 

**xxx**

 

Smallville was the last minute decision in order to leave the situation quickly without too much debate. With Flash living in the next city over, giant craters with strange people sitting at the bottom of them was not above the norm. Cows mooed, chickens clucked, and pigs snorted with enthusiasm when they heard their favorite Boy of Steel arrived on the property.  Wally visited the Kent Farm once, back when he was still on the team and Conner begged for a buddy to sit in a Kent Family dinner with him. He recalled distant relatives he had in Oklahoma, who did the whole barn thing in a small town that consisted of a mini-mart and a gas station.

 

Once Mrs. Kent took in the sight of him, she scurried for the first-aid kit while Conner placed Wally gently on the bed.

 

The next hour was spent dutifully applying ointment on burn marks, Wally protesting about cotton balls soaked with disinfectant, and Mrs. Kent calmly ordering him to shut up more than once. (The very last problem, Mrs. Kent said in prettier, _scarier_ words.)

 

By the end of it, Wally remained on a bed, staring at a baby blue ceiling painted with clouds and stars. The bed was an extra long twin, like the one at Wally’s dorm room when he still lived on campus. Judging by the collection of books on a bookshelf and the few memorabilia (baseball, football, model airplanes), the room was definitely met for a colossal teenager.

_Or, more correctly_ , _the_ colossal teenager.

 

His inner fanboy, even after all of these years, wanted to high-five himself for being in Superman’s house. The other part of him—the parts of him that hurt, burned, and were swollen, forgot to be flattered. Wally had bandages coiled over both hands, and an arm that rested in a sling. One ankle was lifted over a stack of books, and a pattern of bandages adorned his face like freckles.

 

Eventually he stirred awake, feeling like he’d run straight into a wall. Or five. The heavy steps of the person who brought him here was undeniable against the stairs. He looked up, gaze in slits at the door as it slowly opened, and pushed up against the headboard.

 

Conner entered the room, a wary expression on his face and a glass of water in his hand. His demeanor broke, worry lines in every crease of his face, and he placed the glass on the nightstand. A hand brushed against Wally’s back, guiding him into a sitting position.

 

“Morning,” Wally muttered groggily. He rubbed the sand out of his eyes—then winced, realizing his flesh was replaced with medical tape.

 

“Close,” Conner responded. He fluffed a pillow (looking almost maternal, Wally mused wearily), then handed the glass of water to his old teammate. “It’s three AM. You’ve been eight hours.”

 

“Did you—”

 

“I didn’t contact the team. Not yet,” Conner added, voice harsh. He stared at the other man sternly. “I wasn’t sure how to explain things to him. Flash knows we got sidetracked by superhero matters. He’s trusted me to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“He’s preoccupied with the twins,” Wally corrected. He winced, then pressed the heel of his palm against his pounding jaw. “Speaking of which—”

 

“They’re alright.” Conner nudged the cold glass against Wally’s face, eyebrows furrowing. “Ma says you need to keep hydrated. If you’re going to _explain_ everything that’s happened thus far to me, I’d rather it was all in one breath.”

 

Gaze narrowing to the clear glass, Wally bit the inside of his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut, debating his options, and he shook his head.

 

All the while, his friend stared at him expectantly, impatiently with a growl. Supey never _did_ have the best time coping with the situation if any of his teammates were compromised. Well—ex-teammate. Wally corrected himself behind his pounding headache.

 

“Wally,” Conner growled. “I want you to tell me _what happened_ to bring us from that _café_ to here. If you don’t take this glass of water—”

 

“I can’t hold it.” The redhead cut him off. Expression hardening, Wally pressed his free, dead arm against his lap and struggled to move his fingers. They wouldn’t budge. Looking back up, he took in Supey’s questioning look. “I, uh. I lost the feeling in my hand a while back, Supey. I can’t move it.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

“It’s…like that for the rest of me too. I’m slowly losing feeling in every part of my body. The doctor says my body will decay, until it seems like I’m living through rigor mortis.”

 

“Wally. _How_?”

 

“My speed.” Wally’s eyes squeezed shut and he shivered, the ache from Zoom’s hits returning to mind. He knew better than to accuse the rat for his own problems. “My speed’s been killing me since I was eighteen.”

The entire story came out, tumbling from Wally’s mouth through short sips of water. The rush came coming back, the feeling of someone stabbing his calves up to his entire body, until his heart felt like it was vibrating so fast that it could coming out of his chest. Since the fight with Zoom, the numbness in his dead arm had spread up his shoulder, making it hard to twist. Conner remained silent, nodding through the story and expression souring with every word.

 

He explained what happened when he was eighteen, up to the past year what he’d felt. By the end of it, Wally wasn’t surprised by the scowl he received.

 

“I’ve been keeping this secret for far too long,” Wally tested carefully. His eyebrows furrowed, gaze narrowing at the other man. “You can’t tell anyone.”

 

Conner’s hands clenched into fists. He set the empty glass aside after feeding the fallen speedster, and pointed accusingly to him. “Wrong. You have to tell _everyone._ ”

 

“What, you’re just going to _force_ me to go up to the team, of whom I haven’t stood on equal grounds with since June, and tell them that I’ve been hiding this secret since I was _eighteen_? That’s not going to cut it, Con.” Wally inched off the mattress—

 

And to his surprise, his bare feet stood solid against the cold ground. Wally stumbled at first, like he did every morning as his body reminded himself he was losing function of his legs. He leaned into the nightstand with his hip, unable to curl his dead hand near the alarm clock. Wally blinked.

 

“My legs are working again.”

 

It was painfully obvious as Conner watched the entire display, jaw tight. He reached forward, gingerly helping his old teammate stand straight up on his feet. Then, the frustration on his face finally changed into concern. Partially. “Why would you keep this a secret?”

 

Eyes squeezing shut, Wally inhaled sharply and felt his ears turn pink. It was awkward discussing the situation with someone other than Bart. The sensation in his stomach was neither relief nor panic. Opening his eyes again, the voice that came out of his mouth felt dimmer. “What was I supposed to say?” he asked weakly. Wally’s lip twitched, gaze falling to the ground. “Kaldur left so that we could fulfill the undercover mission. Artemis and I left the team, and Dick got promoted to leader. The Flash was losing Kid Flash as his partner, but how the _hell_ do you tell him he’s losing his nephew, too?”

 

“That’s _not_ how you _handle_ things, Wally.” Conner glared in aggravation, fist rising in anger. He ceased, remarking his own actions, and seethed. “How do you dupe your own _girlfriend_ for five years about what’s been really happening to you?”

 

Even from where Wally was standing, he could tell that Supey was trying to find a medium between anger and fear from him.  Wally’s shoulders tensed and his brow furrowed. “So long as I stopped running, I didn’t accelerate the problem. I was able to _hide_ it, and tell when I would have an attack. Not only that, but for over eight months, my _girlfriend_ was prepping for an undercover mission to reveal who the Light really was.”

 

“And yet you were only a _zeta-beam tube_ away from coming to the Cave—”

 

“I was _scared_ , alright, genius? Fine. If that’s what you really want me to say, I’ll _tell_ you that.” Wally took one tentative step forward, scowling at the other man. It certainly caught his attention. His heart beat painfully in his chest, throbbing from defeat against Zoom, and from what he was finally confessing. “ _I_ didn’t even know what was happening to me at the time; and if this turned out to be some weird speedster _cancer_ , I didn’t want you to act differently around me, or dote on me while I was Kid Flash. Or—or look at me like that, Supey.”

 

“How do you expect me to react—”

 

“I _expect_ you to keep your voice down so all of Kansas doesn’t hear you screaming at me.” Wally limped forward and stood at an arch with Conner. His back was hunched in an obtuse angle, dead hand melted onto the nightstand. His breath hastened, and he gritted his teeth.

 

It all deteriorated into a standoff, with Wally scowling and Supey ready to punch him. Neither looked eager to give in to the other’s claim. Conner broke his stance—then shoved Wally back onto the mattress.

 

“Con—”

 

“Who else knows?”

 

Wally fidgeted. “Just Bart. He called me out on it. _You_ weren’t even supposed to find out.” Conner just caught him at the worst possible moment, and from there, he couldn’t jump back on his feet. Staring at his swollen ankle—Wally only winced.

 

He didn’t know _if_ he could jump back on his feet. Not if he ran again.

 

“You’ve got two choices, Wally. Either we go down there, _right now_ , and you tell them, or I _drag_ you, and _I_ tell them.” Conner’s lips broke into a grimace. He loomed over the other man, arms folded against his chest. “And it’s _going_ to be told. _Understood_?”

 

“Hey. _No one_ ever fucking outed you when you found out Lex Luthor was your weird baby daddy.”

 

“ _That_ was different. You didn’t know about—“

 

“And _you_ weren’t supposed to know about this. _Con._ It’s _my_ secret!” Wally crawled across the small twin bed to stand to his feet again—but Conner blocked his way. The Boy of Steel’s eyes were suddenly fixated on his friend’s legs, and Wally bit back his need to groan. The frustration helped. “You _weren’t_ supposed to know about it, and _you_ practiced your dumb hobby with patches.”

 

“Wally—”

 

“ _Conner._ ” Wally struggled to cross his legs. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest and he hissed.

 

“The sooner we tell the team, the sooner you get better.” Conner sidestepped Wally once more, forcing the redhead to look at hi. His hands dropped to his sides, coiling into fists, and his eyebrows furrowed together. Big blue eyes flickered worriedly. Oh, god. The puppy dog look. “You need to get better.”

 

Once the statement reached Wally’s ears, his resolve softened. His expression twisted, eyebrows pinching together and gaze locked on the other boy.

 

It just… _really_ hurt, seeing how Conner stared at him.

 

“I will, Con. I’ve…got a team of medics,” Wally lied. He leaned back against the wall and winced at the arm resting in his sling. “I’ll get better.”

 

Every bit of Supey twitched. They stared at each other once more with less animosity, and Conner’s lips contorted into a small straight line. He leaned over to the bed and—gingerly—looped an arm around Wally.

 

One of the infamous, patented Boy of Steel hugs that broke your bones and turned your heart into goo. Wally hitched a breath—struggled—and managed to loop his dead arm around the big guy.

 

“So what happens now?” Conner murmured. For such a man-boy, his chest rumbling shook every bit of Wally.

 

The redhead shrugged with one shouldr and wiggled out of Conner’s grip. He bit the inside of his mouth.

 

“Now I visit STAR Labs, and hope they won’t kill me.”

 

**xxx**

Sure enough, Attar, Cheung, and Shriver were ready to strangle him once he arrived back in Palo Alto the next day. Wally’d switched the sling over to his dead arm and manhandled a bike to the town’s division of STAR Labs. (Falling off his bike and onto the sidewalk was less dangerous than losing function of his legs while pressing the accelerator on the road.) The swelling on his head wound had gone down enough after he iced it, along with his twisted ankle. He applied the aloe vera Mrs. Kent gave him and tucked both hands in gloves before taking off.

 

When he got there (late), semi-battered up and legs stiff, they flashed him looks and ordered him to dress in a patient gown. They took scans of his body, as always, tests of his reaction time and reflexes, and drew blood. Dr. Attar had frowned—mumbling to himself before drawing blood a second time. Dizzy, Wally was given a bottle of water to drink dry before he was instructed to run.

 

One step. Two tentative steps. Everything from the knee down felt numb—a forewarning, just like the loss of function of his left hand. The run was awkward, wind slapping against the sling as he trudged forward. Eventually, Wally found a comfortable speed to carry forward and leaned forward.

 

It wasn’t like running against Zoom. Relief stuttered from his mouth instead of panic, and each step matched his heartbeat. Wally twisted, running in circles—and ignored the impassive looks given by the doctors. If he looked close enough during his run, he would have noticed the pity in their eyes.

 

Eventually, Wally wheezed. He came to a steady halt when he felt the sharp pain in his stomach. Cheung passed him a bottle of water—another, that he swallowed until it was empty, while Attar passed him a towel.

 

Then, more scans, more tests, more blood drawn.

 

Out of exhaustion, Wally waited the following hour in the scientists’ cafeteria and ordered a gray colored hotdog. He ignored the anxiety culminated in his stomach, instead slobbing both mustard and ketchup over his lunch before eating it whole. His phone vibrated against his pocket when Conner texted him.

 

**_‘You okay?’_ **

****

Wally placed his orange juice on his tray and licked the residue off his upper lip. He fiddled with the phone, onehanded. **_‘At STAR now. You can stop worrying now. ‘_**

****

Two seconds later, Conner responded. **_‘You’re my friend. I’ll never stop worrklmg.’_**

****

A smile quirked across Wally’s face. He dragged a foot against his chair and typed his idle reply. **_‘I think your thumbs are too big for the keys there, Supey.’_** Once he was done, Wally chucked the phone across the table and stared at it. Two more seconds passed, and Conner responded again.

 

Before he had the chance to look it over, another intern appeared—one of the girls meant to follow Attar. She was a petite Korean woman in the same major as Wally; one of the girls he often saw in the same building, but never seen in the same class. Once she appeared, Wally hauled himself out of the seat and reached for his sling. He struggled until she came over and reworked it over his shoulder.

 

“Thanks,” he murmured with relief. Wally scanned her nametag. “Uh. Linda.”

 

“You’re welcome.” She nodded her head. Her eyebrows meshed together, perplexed, then she nodded her head in the direction of Shriver’s lab. “They’re ready to see you now.”

 

Whether or not she actually recognized him, Wally wasn’t sure. He pretended not to be familiar since in a few short months, Wally’d gone from a fellow intern to a test subject. As Attar’s intern, she definitely knew, even if nothing was said.

 

He carried himself into the room, where all three doctors turned their heads to him, and shut the door behind him. Wally took the nearest chair and rolled toward the doctors. “So? What’s the verdict?”

 

“We’ve isolated the problem.”

 

“That’s what you did last time, Doc. Too much energy accumulated in my body, the not enough when I run. Get your facts right.” Wally spun around in his chair and blew the hair out of his eyes. He slouched, then looked over to see that no one in the trio was laughing. Which—was normal. But. None got on his case for jesting, either. Wally scooted closer on his seat and sat straighter against the chair. His eyebrows furrowed. “Alright. What’s going to happen to me?”

 

They gave him a clipboard that monitored all of his test results in the past year since he arrived. Everything else from his tests an hour ago was pinned on a wall so he could see.

 

Dr. Shriver gestured to his blood tests, where Wally frowned. “Your red blood cell count has dropped significantly since your battle with Zoom yesterday. It has deceased gradually over the past eight months, hinting toward anemia. However, blood drawn from what you call your ‘dead’ arm versus your other arm, shows a red blood cell count closer to average.”

 

Wally flexed his good arm and looked at the other pressed against his chest. “So…what? Iron supplements?”

 

“Because of the experiment that gave you your powers, you have hyper accelerated cell regeneration when you are hit. The head-wound you described would take the normal human at least a week to heal, along with the probability of concussion.” Dr. Shriver gestured to the X-Ray of Wally’s arm and she frowned. “Along with the Flash, the regeneration of your skin cells would suggest that you will still have the physique of a healthy twenty-five-year-old man by the time you’re fifty.”

 

“But my physiology isn’t like the Flash’s.” Wally’s grip tightened over the clipboard and he bit the inside of his mouth. Looking at the results, they were right—his red blood cell count faced a significant drop because of his fight with Zoom. “I screwed up.”

 

“Yes. We…factored that into the equation when drawing test results.” Dr. Shriver’s eyes flickered painfully beneath the stoic mask.

 

“It appears that your somatosensory system foreshadows where you will lose function in your body.” Attar gestured to the neuroimaging of imaging of his brain. “When you are touched, the message should be sent to the sensory cortex in your parietal lobe. It is not. Your brain is tricked into believing those numb body parts do not need the proper amount of oxygen, thusly decreasing the flow of blood in those said appendages until it is reduced to nothing. Your next attack would suggest amputating your hand.”

 

His entire body drew cold. Wally cocked his head, staring at the trio with a frown. He massaged his dead hand. “You’re saying to cut off everything that’s lost sensation.”

 

Attar nodded.

 

“How does that factor into my spasms? You told me my body was releasing stored energy when I _don’t_ run and locks me up before I can _actually_ run.” His eyebrows pinched together.

 

“Without the proper blood flow, the tissue death should appear numb _and_ painful. Your hyper-accelerated healing acts as a sedative, throwing off the latter. But combined with your metabolism, it increases the rate red blood cells are created and tries to revive those dead tissues.” Dr. Cheung grimaced. “That is Problem A. Where the red blood cells accumulate and try to compensate for what it has lost. It cannot flow through numb areas. That results in your painful spasms. Those numb limbs thusly have even less oxygen flow than before.”

 

“For Problem B, your body is running on that short level of oxygen.” Shriver shook her head.

 

“Like Type 1 and Type 2 Diabetes,” Wally translated. He set the clipboard on a table and looked up. His heart pumped in his ears. “Where insulin cannot be produced in the body, or is rejected when made. Just…replace _insulin_ with my red blood cells.”

 

His doctors nodded solemnly, and Wally’s heart sunk in his chest.

 

He folded both hands together, stirring his feet against the ground, and shut his eyes. The information ran through his head like a marquee. “What’s going to happen to me?”

 

Without his sight, Wally only heard their hesitation. Papers shuffled, and Shriver spoke again. “I’m afraid you will lose the feeling throughout your body. Your blood flow will be redirected, body attacked, and numbness growing. The blood flow will soon decrease until you lose function or vital organs.”

 

“And?”

 

“You have six months to live, Mr. West…Wallace.” Shriver placed her paperwork on a desk and stared at the ground. “And that is _only_ if you no longer use your powers. We are adamant about it.”

 

**xxx**

The next few days were spent in solitude, where Wally did his school work and reported to the intern-type tasks. He debated on dropping out of his senior year to move to Keystone early. There was no point in living in a large house by himself with his dog—just like there was no point in going to school. He would be dead before he could graduate, and wouldn’t be able to pursue his job as a scientist at STAR Labs.

 

The day after Wally was informed, he mapped out the rest of his six months, going as far as the apartment he found in Keystone and a job he could receive. Auto-mechanics were always needed, especially in the twin cities of Central City and Keystone City. He was speedy, even without his speed, and spent enough time beneath his family’s cars. The money that he made could go into savings account and after he passed away, could pay off a number of his parents’ debts.

 

Even if he wanted to put up a fight, the doctors were against it. Any reckless move could end up accelerating Wally’s death.

 

He didn’t get back to his house until after midnight. The sky was dark, with the faintest amount of purplish blue that faded away beneath clouds. Wally greeted his neighbors with a tired smile, waving, and climbed the stairs. Bart texted him three times, asking if he wanted company. It was only a matter of time until he came barging through the door, demanding why Wally kept saying no.

 

There wasn’t an _easy_ way to tell his baby cousin he was dying.

 

Wally was dying.

 

His hand curled against the doorknob and squeezed tightly. It was a matter of time, he knew, before it happened. But he never wanted to live it.

 

There was no cure. Opening the door, Wally seethed beneath his breath and shuffled inside. He’d never answered Conner back about his results. By the looks of things, it was time to tell everyone.

 

 _Time to watch them all burst into tears since the Great Wall-Man was dying._ Scratching the back of his head, Wally groaned to himself. He would have to find a way to tell the—

 

A small puff of fire stood out in the darkness before he turned the lights on. It rested on the kitchen counter, illuminating nearby cabinets and the textbooks he’d been meaning to sell back at the student union. Wally stared wide-eyed, and his heart hammered in his chest. He even smiled.

 

“You know,” the redhead said aloud, then took tentative steps forward, “eventually I’m going to put security alarms on that window.”He ignored the light switch, instead walking forward toward the kitchen counter. Brucely panted in the darkness, evidently happy with whoever else was in the room.

 

“That’s not as fun.” Dick switched on the kitchen light, and the small cupcake appeared. Red velvet with vanilla icing, rainbow sprinkles, and a plastic lightning bolt that stuck out to the candle. He pushed it toward the other man, a smile quirked on his face. “Happy Birthday.”

 

Wally blinked. He’d been lost at the nice blue shirt and the pin-stripe vest over his best friend’s chest. Dick’s hair was combed back, parted neatly so gorgeous cerulean blue eyes were in plain sight. Once the words reached his ears, he pulled out his phone. Forty-five minutes past midnight, November 10th.  The day before his birthday.

 

Dick snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

 

 _Yes._ “Yeah—says Mister Workaholic, who’d rather do missions than celebrate like a normal person.” Wally ignored Conner’s recent text message and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He leaned over the counter, inhaling the scent of red velvet—then looked at the tiny fire that reflected in Dick’s eyes. His chest tightened, ears warm, and a smile spread across his lips. “Thanks for remembering for me.”

 

“What I do best,” Dick murmured. The shadows of his smile darkened against the tiny light and he rested his head against his hand. “Why don’t you make a wish, Fastest Teen Alive?”

 

“Not a teen anymore.” Lips quirking into a wider smile, Wally laughed. He stared at the candle, debating his options—then closed his eyes to blow it out.

 

The candle relit. Dick threw his head back and cackled.

 

“You bought a _trick candle_? What are you, five?”

 

“Apparently you’re not any older if you actually fell for that.” The old Boy Wonder snickered and plucked the candle out of the cupcake. He ran water over it until the fire faded. “Sorry I haven’t been around. Bats requested me on a lot of missions lately.”

 

“Is that the truth?”

 

The faucet turned off with a squeak. Dick turned his head, no ill intentions seen, and smiled amiably. His eyes flickered mischievously. “I just got back, man. Headed straight here as soon as I could. My resume’s pretty impressive.”

 

“I bet.” Wally swallowed hard, eyes running down the backside of his amicable friend.  He spun the plastic lightning bolt in his hand and placed the spoke in his mouth. Sanguine bloomed in his cheeks and he curled his fingers. “Thanks. For the cupcake, I mean.”

 

Silence. From the corner of his eye, he could see cerulean blue eyes settled on his form. There was no hostility, or even regard for what happened the last time they saw each other. Dick’s smile was perfectly fine as he turned around, trying hard to reach his eyes. “What’d you wish for?”

 

“You.”

 

Silence. Dick’s face scrunched, mirth glittering in his eyes. Wally bit the inside of his mouth. Slowly, the younger man walked around the kitchen counter to meet him.

 

They stood eye to eye, and Dick’s gaze narrowed, voice hesitant. “That’s…not going to come true if you say it aloud, doofus.”

 

Demeanor softening, Wally reached up and pushed a lock of hair behind the other boy’s ear. He leaned forward, pushing away from the counter and stuffed both hands in his pockets. Emerald green eyes stared at cerulean blue, with a touch of fear in both of them. “And if I don’t, am I guaranteed that I’d get you?”

 

“Wishing is only half the success.” Dick’s demeanor flickered with reluctance again, and he looked uncomfortable. Wally stepped forward until they were touching, and cupped Dick’s face. “Wally.”

 

“Dick, I…”

 

This…wasn’t right.

 

He needed to tell.

 

In six months, he’d no longer be alive, or able to stroke his thumb across Dick’s cheek like this. He’d been hiding the secret for three years now, and he needed to _tell._ Swallowing hard, Wally snapped out of his daze, eyebrows furrowing together, and scanned Dick’s face.

 

The man swooped out of his grip instantly, putting three feet of distance between them and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Red was evident across his cheeks, but Dick looked disgusted with himself. He frowned and looked at his phone. “Sorry, Wally. Gotta cut it short.”

 

“But you just got here.”

 

In that instant, the other man flashed a guilty look and shook his head. He brushed the hair out of his face and pushed the cupcake toward the redhead. “Alpha is going on a three-day mission. I wanted to see you at least once before I had to leave. Since…I’ve missed most of your other birthdays.”

 

“Not your fault.” Everything he was about to say disappeared from his mind. His mom insisted every year to throw a party, but they ranged from full to empty based on what missions his friends received. Dick, being the leader in the past few years, was someone he never got to see.

 

Wally bit the inside of his mouth, his mind returning to his dead hand. He’d been safe in the past few days without experiencing Spasm B, but it was coming. What was going to happen when he told his friends, anyway? They had lives. He was retired, and they wouldn’t simply drop everything to help him. Dick was going to be gone for _three days._

 

“Um.” To his surprise, Dick moved forward and kissed him on the cheek. Cerulean blue eyes opened, staring at him with a heated look. Wally’s mind halted once again. A nervous smile curled against the teen’s lips and he crossed his arms. “Happy Birthday, Wally.”

 

“Wait.” Wally grabbed the other man. His heart throbbed in his chest, and he leaned forward. “Take me with you.”

 

Dick blinked, looking as though his brain suddenly broke. His face flickered with concern and he matched the redhead’s grip with his own. “You’re kidding.”

 

“No. I.” He ran his own words through his head, realizing they’d come out on his own accord. Nodding firmly, Wally looked to his best friend again. “I’m serious. I want to go on this mission with you.” 


	12. Mission, Perdita, Tiger, Guyliner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Not future. Family._ Bart hopped onto the table and held the bomb in his hands. _This has Eobard Thawne written all over it! He’s my mom’s side of the family! A famous scientist from Keystone City who was one of the rebels of the Reach when they first took over and an avid Flash—uh-oh._

An hour later, both Kid Flash and Nightwing were beamed up to the Watchtower. They walked down the halls—and _no one_ was being subtle about staring. Wally couldn’t help but wonder if it was because his costume was always this blindly condiment-themed, or if the shock of seeing him onboard was that necessary.

 

 _Everyone_ looked at him. Wally trudged behind his best friend, expression thoughtless and mind running in the circles he was too afraid to. His legs still felt numb. Everything below the knee felt like it’d collapse at any second. Dick had flashed him hesitant looks—from when Wally volunteered to run them toward the zeta-beam tube, and now, when he had a better look of Kid Flash.

 

The costume fit perfectly, but he still felt like he was suffocating. Each boot felt like skin, and Wall zipped them up one-handed. Like the past few weeks, Dick stayed out of the room when he changed—just like how he ducked out of Wally’s kiss.  

 

Nightwing could protest all he want, but Wally knew Dick had been avoiding him. Given the circumstances, it was probably better that way. Even if it _did_ hurt that his best friend who once wanted him back under the cowl now wanted him to stay in retirement.

 

“Wait.” Wally tugged on Nightwing’s arm before they entered the Main-Ops room. They froze, standing parallel to each other with Kid Flash’s attention fixated on his best friend.

 

Nightwing arched an eyebrow, evidently surprised. “You alright?”

 

“Are you?” Wally watched the steady line of Dick’s lips and decided they weren’t going to respond. He took his good arm and ran the hand through his hair self-consciously. Green eyes stared at his feet. “I mean. You and I…about this Kid Flash thing. We’ve been going back and forth about it since—”

 

“I still want you on that field.”

 

“You _sure_?”

 

“Well…yeah.” Nightwing frowned, for the first time staring at Kid Flash in the eye like he was a crazy man. He tucked both hands beneath his armpits and stared at the other man. A quiet smile quirked upon his lips. “Dude, you dropped the coming-out-of-retirement bomb on me after I gave you a cupcake. If…you really want to be on the team permanently—”

 

“I do,” Wally cut him off. He shifted on his feet and narrowed his gaze to his best friend. “I mean. I _am_ back permanently. This isn’t just me picking up the mask for the hell of it. I…I want to be here.”

 

The words registered in Nightwing’s mind, clearly holding more weight than the first time Wally’d declared it. The younger man ducked his head and pink glowed in his cheeks. “I’m glad to hear that.”

 

Wally grinned, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. “Partners?”

 

He held out a hand for emphasis.

 

That gorgeous smile curled across Dick’s lips and he looked back up. “Partners.”

 

As soon as the doors opened, Wally found himself dragged far down the hallway. “Whoa—”

 

 ** _WOOSH!_** Bart yanked him by the arm until they hit a wall and looked up to him, arms crossed. They stood parallel to each other at an empty part of the Watchtower—not a hero in sight. “Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”

 

Blinking, Wally scanned the menacing glare across his baby cousin’s face. The scowl was deep, Bart breaking his “character,” and even his post-apocalyptic self looked terrified. He glared. The _Kid_ didn’t look like a kid, but Wally was still older. “I’m joining the mission.”

 

Impulse’s eyes widened four times their size. “Noyou’renot.”

 

“Bart—”

 

“Can you even _feel_ that?” Bart yanked the elder speedster’s dead arm and glared at him. He bared his fangs, fingers pressing into Wally’s flesh, then threw it away. Green eyes glared at him in absolute disgust—enough for Wally to rethink his impulsive move. “You’re _this close_ to death and you think it’s okay to chance it?”

 

He wasn’t chancing it. He was going after it. “Bart, you have to remember that you don’t _control_ my life—”

 

“No!” Bart scowled hastily and yanked Wally by the other arm. This time, Wally realized hard the younger speedster was clawing him. When Wally opened his mouth to speak, Bart faltered back, attitude and demeanor small.

 

Blinking, Wally stared at the once-aggravated form of his cousin.

 

 Bart grew timid, with his hands coiled into fists at his sides. Fear enveloped the other speedster’s face and his entire body trembled. Wally’s baby cousin was holding back tears.

 

Drawing a breath, Wally raked a hand through his hair.

 

Bart cared too much.

 

“Hey.” Stepping forward, Wally placed a hand over his cousin’s shoulders. “Hey, look at me.”

 

Green eyes stared at the ground for what seemed like ages before peering up beneath that yellow visor.

 

“I’ll be alright.” Squeezing his cousin’s shoulder tightly, Wally’s lips curled into a smile, and he leaned over.

 

Bart didn’t budge.

 

 “It’s what I want, okay?” Through the fear, frustration, nervousness, and the nagging voice in the back of his mind _screaming_ that this mission was a bad idea, Wally was glowing with excitement.

 

It didn’t matter what Shriver told him. Six months of not running—not doing what he _loved_ just so that he could stay _alive_ wasn’t worth it. All the plans he made failed in comparison.

 

Impulse looked ready to _cry._ “But—”

 

“I’d rather go down running than hide. After this mission I’ll tell everyone the truth.” Including Bart himself. It dawned on Wally that he hadn’t explained how thoroughly the doctors broke down the problem. Instinctively he went to shove both hands in his pockets—then remembered that he was in uniform.

 

The fact didn’t go unnoticed by Bart. The younger speedster raised his head, pulling his tiny physique into someone that looked too old for that face. Brown eyebrows meshed together, and Bart bit his lip. “I’ve…gotta tell you something. About the future.”

 

“Later.” A smile graced Wally’s lips, small and weary, and he ruffled the young teen’s hair. “It’s my first day back. I wanna stay whelmed for the mission.”

 

**xxx**

M’gann greeted Wally with a hug as soon as Bart and he returned to the monitor room.

 

Dick held his breath and tried to best gather his thoughts while their teammates for the mission—Miss Martian, Artemis, Bagirl, Superboy—all greeted Wally with good thoughts. The other four on Alpha would be Dick himself, Aqualad, Kid Flash, and Impulse.

 

“What is he doing here?” Kaldur asked softly. He arrived at Dick’s side and frowned.

 

“Last minute addition. He’ll be useful, Kal.”

 

Unconvinced, Kaldur eyed him.

 

Dick shrugged and turned back to the co-leader of Young Justice. “He really wants to do this. Besides—Perdita means a lot to him. I bet all it’s going to do is light a fire under his ass.”

 

A wry snort could be heard under that Atlantean breath. Good. Kaldur pressed his lips together firmly. “Perhaps you’re right.”

 

“If this is about the fact that you and Artemis have chemistry, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Nightwing smirked as the red glowed in Kaldur’s mind. “Just…don’t let personal feelings run amuck.”

 

“I could say the same to you.” Clearing his throat, Kaldur assembled the team. “It is time that we brief for the mission.”

 

Everyone gathered. Dick almost felt like… _Robin_ again. Kid Flash stood between his cousin and a best friend that Kaldur, Wally, and Dick had all helped to find. Part of him was eager for this mission, but it didn’t suppress the nausea in his stomach.

 

Pushing that thought away, Nightwing summoned holographs—of Kaznia, Vlatava, and their political leaders. “Princess Audrey is the eldest child of the Royal Family of Kaznia. She is to marry the Queen of Vlatava to settle political differences and declare peace. There have already been assassination attempts beforehand by those who are against the peaceful union. One guard has already been murdered.”

 

“Queen Perdita?” Just like Dick predicted, Wally’s attention immediately focused to the holograms. Green eyes widened in disbelief and he dissected the information as fast as he could. “Someone is trying to murder her?”

 

“What else is new?” Artemis snorted. “Royal Family, remember?”

 

“We can’t let that happen.” Kid Flash grimaced.

 

“Clearly,” she responded with ease. She smirked when he rolled his eyes—and then he smiled back.

 

Dick couldn’t help but notice the fidgeting and lack of fidgeting in Wally’s hands. Hand. KF looked like he was conflicted about being excited or worried—which only bounced back to Dick himself. Ignoring it, Dick pulled up a holographic keyboard. Fugitives appeared next to the images of Kaznia and Vlatava. “Guards have already found a bomb planted in the castle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even on. The Royals suspect that it was only a threat. A real bomb  may be hiding somewhere in the depths of the castle. Once we get there, Batgirl and I will be disassembling the first one for clues. Aqualad, Tigress, Miss Martian, and Superboy will be undercover as wedding guests—”

 

“Doesn’t it make more sense for you and I to examine the bomb, Nightwing?” Kid Flash cut in without a second thought. He placed a hand on his hip and narrowed his eyes. “I mean—if anyone has experience disassembling and assembling tech, I do.”

 

 

Batgirl looked over to Nightwing, unamused, before she turned to the speedster. “Sorry, Kid. We’ve had this planned for months now since we caught whiff of a rebellion. Nightwing and I are prepped for the task.”

 

“But…” The look on Wally’s face tugged at Dick’s heart, and he had to resist going against his own words. He wasn’t sure if Wally was doing it because Wally _was serious_ about the mission, or…because Wally wanted to spend time with him.

 

A mission wasn’t a place to socialize. Dick was so confused about his own feelings that his mind felt like a never-ending labyrinth.

 

“Maybe Wally and I can go as each other’s dates instead.” Conner’s demeanor was straight-faced when everyone looked at him. His eyes darkened, almost feral, and he crossed his hands over his chest.

 

If Dick were younger, he would have laughed.

 

“But—you and I were going to…you know.” M’gann’s eyebrows furrowed. “Attend a wedding together.”

 

Conner shrugged. His eyes met Dick’s perfectly, as if challenging Dick to refuse. “We all know that M’gann is the best in stealth, rivaling even you and Batgirl. She could teach Impulse a thing or two about the mission.”

 

KF sighed in exasperation. “But you and I are _guys._ ”

 

Everyone looked at Wally, deadpanned. The speedster in question—realizing how stupid that sounded—retracted.

 

“I, uh…mean. I’m not _against_ anything if my history with—we’re not exactly trying to make a political statement here, are we?” Kid Flash stared at Dick, almost… _pleading_ him to go against Conner’s idea. “Besides, Bart’s _my_ cousin. If anyone can teach a thing or two to him, it can be a founding member of Young Justice.”

 

“Founding member, yes. Active member, no.” Artemis suddenly shook her head and eyed her ex-boyfriend. “Batgirl’s right, Wally. We’ve had this mission planned for months now. Impulse would work in much better hands with someone who was up-to-date with what was going on.”

 

“Well then,” Kaldur said, interrupting all of them. “What would your preference be, Bart?”

 

The poor brunet looked at a loss. His façade was broken—instead replaced with concern. Those green eyes flitted back and forth like ping pong balls, with Kid Flash and Superboy as their paddles. He scratched his head and shifted between his feet before staring at the ground. “I. I’d like to team up with my cuzzo.”

 

Dick didn’t know why, but it occurred to him that Bart hadn’t looked this shaken since the invasion. The statement was thin in the air.

 

“Wally and I have seen each other more recently. I think our skills won’t have a problem bouncing off each other.” Why was Superboy being so possessive too?

 

Hesitating, Kaldur explained, “I would not say that stealth is one of your strong suits, my friend. I suppose you’re right. It makes plenty sense for M’gann to teach Impulse the art of stealth while we are on the field. You and Wally would do best hiding in plain sight.”

 

The air of the briefing room was strangely tense.

 

“ _Great._ ” Wally’s jaw tightened and he looked back at Nightwing— _almost_ mirthful. Seconds passed before he shifted to stand closer to Conner. “Nothing below the belt, alright, _Tiger_?”

 

“Tiger?”  Bart cocked his head to his cousin and suddenly grinned. The ire in his voice was chilling. “Ooh, pet names! I _love_ pet names! Could I get a pet name? I bet I’d be a great flamingo—flamingos are pink! So are Clefairy! How about I get a PokePetname and you can be a penguin?”

 

Wally rolled his eyes. “ _Watch it,_ Pixie Dust.”

 

The smartass comments between two speedsters didn’t make the situation any less edgy.

 

Dick split his glance between Bart and Conner. Just _what_ were they hiding?

 

“Hopefully things don’t run amuck,” Kaldur said once again.

 

“Yeah,” Nightwing responded reluctantly. “Hopefully.”

 

**xxx**

 

Once they were at the location, the Bioship was escorted to a private bunker and put into sleep mode. Several guards greeted the team as they dispatched, and all of them were brought into a room that was decorated and lavished like the royal palace of Vlatava itself.

 

Queen Perdita was now fifteen. It’d been five years since the last time they helped the young ruler. She was a beautiful young girl—and you could tell that she was very much in love with her wife-to-be. Both had beautiful, long blond hair. They reminded Wally of being fifteen again himself—back when he’d first saved Queen Perdita. (Well, plus one year, but…yeah.)

 

Those years were _so long ago._

 

Guards placed two chairs beside each other, where Princess Audrey and Queen Perdita sat. A table was carried to the middle, fit with eight more seats for the team. The chairs looked more expensive than Wally’s college tuition. No—seriously.

 

Chefs arrived and unveiled several different delicacies—ranging from several European dishes that Wally recognized, along with American food and East Asian food. He sat to the right of Perdita as Dick sat to the left of Audrey, and they all said their hellos.

 

“It is a pleasure to be working with you again, Kid Flash.” Queen Perdita smiled to Wally, clearly exhausted. She let go of Princess Audrey’s hand for the first time and placed it on top of Wally’s. It was shaky. “I have never felt safer, with you by my side.”

 

“The honor is all mine, your majesty.” Bowing his head politely as possible, Wally couldn’t believe how out of place he felt. Not…just in a lavished bunker with two royals, dozens of guards, and the finest turkey he’d ever seen, but with his teammates too.

 

During the ride to Vlatava, Dick had busied himself discussing several types of equipment with Batgirl. Conner, the guy who was his partner and _of course_ had an ulterior motive, was busy chatting it up with Miss M. Artemis had politely greeted him when he arrived at the Watchtower and proved she had no hard feelings, but…she was busy with Kaldur.

 

Bart sat at the far end of the table—not because anyone made him, but because he wanted to. He looked lost at thought, picking at his wanton soup with a fork, and   _torn_ in what he wanted to say and what needed to stay a secret.

 

And Wally hadn’t even told Bart that he was dying yet.

 

“Please, your majesty. Let us know what all has gone on since the last time you contacted us.” Dick didn’t touch is food. He sat with his elbows on the table, surprisingly enough, and looked at no one but the two royals.

 

Princess Audrey frowned. Her lips turned into a grimace and she shook her head. “Last night there was an attempted murder in my chambers. I would be dead, had I not chosen to stay with Dita in her own quarters. This morning, when I returned to my room to change and get ready to have breakfast with my parents, I found a chamber maid unconscious. She had one of my pillows in her hands, with intent to change it, and never had the chance.”

 

“It must have been meant for you. A sleep drug.” Wally frowned. “They must have wanted to knock you unconscious and then assassinate you in your sleep. No one would hear you scream.”

 

“The room is being examined by Vlatava’s best detectives,” Queen Perdita replied. She frowned. “But I do not think that they will find what you can find.”

 

“We can examine the room as soon as you’d like,” Nightwing assured. “Until then, I think that it’ll be safer if you and Princess Audrey remained in this bunker.”

 

“Unfortunately it is not that easy.” Princess Audrey shook her head in dismay. Her hand immediately went to her fiancée’s, and she curled her fingers around Queen Perdita’s delicately. “We are aware that plenty of people are against our marriage—our ancestors have not treated each other kindly. However, we must keep appearances up. Should anyone in the palace know that we are not in our rooms, then the perpetrator and/or accomplices will go into hiding.”

 

“Then they won’t know that you’re gone,” Artemis said instantly. She smirked.

 

“How would we achieve that?” Princess Audrey arched an eyebrow in her direction.

 

“Because.” M’gann smiled promptly. She morphed into the spitting image of the said princess. “Artemis and I will stand in as decoys. So long as the marriage happens successfully tomorrow, Kaznia and Vlatava are joined together as allying countries.”

 

The plan was formed between all of them without it even being said.

 

“Kid Flash and I will monitor one room while Aqualad and Impulse monitor the other,” Conner said.

 

“In the meantime, Batgirl and I will take apart the bomb in this bunker while you two rest for tomorrow’s big day.” Nightwing nodded firmly. “Should anything go wrong, we’ll be linked together telepathically. Batgirl and I will promise to get you out of the dangerous situation before it even occurs.”

 

As the events unfolded, Wally couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe how _cohesive_ his ex-teammates were. “That’s _brilliant_.”

 

He really… _did_ feel out of place between all of these people.

 

“There is a rehearsal dinner tonight. We must get through that first, and then proceed to the next plan of action.” Queen Perdita’s eyebrows furrowed together grimly and she looked over to her beloved. “These will be the hardest two days of our lives, Audrey.”

 

Princess Audrey smiled back, despite the fear in her eyes. “It’s worth it if it means you and I are forever.”

 

“Yes.” Queen Perdita grinned. “I suppose it is.”

 

Tonight arrived. According to Perdita and Audrey, a Vlatavan wedding proposed a week of celebration, just like Kaznian weddings. That being said, they meshed two cultures together in order to celebrate morning festivities of Vlatava and evening festivities of Kaznia.

 

The ballroom was decorated with the official colors of each country, curtains hanging on walls with gold trim. The ballroom, of the Vlatavan Palace, had hexagonal patterns and vines at the edges of the floor, closest to the walls. The guests wore sashes, indicating Duke This, Duchess That, Mommy Got Me Invited Here, etc. The Royal Family of Kaznia looked proud.

 

For the time being, they regrouped. Artemis was with Kaldur as his plus one, while Conner was Wally’s.

 

Honestly, it just reminded Wally of prom all over again.

 

“Easy there, _Tiger_. Nothing past first base.” Wally wiggled his eyebrows and reached down to move Conner’s hand to the small of back. In return, Supey rolled his eyes and snatched Wally by his bad hand. “Whoa—”

 

“Can you feel that?” Conner asked.

 

Wally hesitated.

 

“This is the stupidest decision by _far_ that you’ve ever made.” Conner’s gaze narrowed angrily at Wally. The scowl on his lips was a perfect match, and he placed a firm hand on Wally’s bad shoulder.

 

“You’re…not gonna go on feral on me, are you?”

 

“Thinking about it.” A sigh left Conner’s lips. He rubbed his temples and sighed. “Fortunately for you, we can’t risk jeopardizing the mission by bringing this up to Dick and Kaldur. I know how much Queen Perdita means to you.”

 

“Thank you.” Wally chewed on his lip. “And—uh. About the whole _jeopardizing the mission_ thing…”

 

He explained everything.

 

Conner put him at arm’s length. “ _What?_ ”

 

“I’m dying. _D-Y-I-N-G_. Do I have to spell it out for you again? _D-Y-I-N-G_ —”

 

“ _Wally_!” Conner hissed. If this was five years ago, the redhead couldn’t help but think, Conner wouldn’t have been half this calm. He looked angry before, but—now he looked absolutely furious. “You’re _off this mission_ —”

 

“No. I’m _not._ ” Wally reached to grab Conner’s hand and— _dammit._ He couldn’t get it to _work._

“That should be proof enough that you need to stand down. Wally—” Conner placed both hands firmly on Wally’s shoulders. His gaze struck Wally with utter regret. Fear commanded Conner’s irises, so honest, raw, and terrified that it made Wally’s heart ache along with it. “You’re dying. I don’t want this mission to be where you _die_.”

 

“Conner, it’s _Perdita_ ,” Wally seethed. “She’s the full reason why I realized being a hero is _more_ than my super speed.”

 

“You mean _lack_ of speed—”

 

“Mind if I cut in?”

 

Artemis’s voice was enough to make them both jump. Scanning the room, it occurred to Wally that they weren’t being as discreet as most missions commanded. It was always a matter of circumstance—which Wally hoped he conveyed in the look he gave Conner.

 

“We haven’t talked in a while. I’d like it, if that’s okay.” Artemis’s expression hurt Wally as much as he thought it would: a lot. Her eyes flashed with the affection and vulnerability that’d been hidden away beneath the wit from earlier. There was nervousness in the present—anxiousness. It only hurt more. How long had it been since they last _talked_? “Is that okay?”

 

Green eyes looked to blue. Conner didn’t relinquish his grip.

 

His straight-laced demeanor, however, morphed into something more appropriate. “I do not know if I can allow that, Madam. He _is_ my lover.”

 

Wally nearly choked on the phony accent.

 

“But _Monsieur_.” Artemis matched the same accent—Wally couldn’t even trace it. Her ruby red lips curled into a purr before she yanked the redhead by the arm. “In my country, we _share._ ”

 

“I suppose that is alright. After all, this is a happy occasion.” The brunet looked hesitant to budge. He released his grip, but not before giving Wally an unsuspecting _unbelievably_ wet kiss on the forehead. “I expect you in our chambers when the party is over, _my love._ ”

 

“Why yes, yes! Of course.” Wally waggled his eyebrows smoothly. “I’ll see you _later_ , ahem, Tiger.”

 

Off in the distance was Kaldur, dressed in the same tuxes that both Conner and Wally were given. He mingled with guests like he belonged before said Supey began to do the same. At the other end of the room held several Vlatavan guards, who stood as a barrier for the Queen and Princess. Wally couldn’t wait for them to be safe again.

 

But—a promise was a promise. He didn’t want to see his team once they learned of the news. Of all of his old comrades. Of his family.

 

“Remember, _Monsieur Wallace_. Your time and attention will be on _me_. Not on your handsome lover.” Artemis took him by the hand. Violins played a new song, something akin to a Kaznian Wedding song. Many Kaznian allies reacted to the songs with several cheers.

 

“Sorry. Just a lot on my mind.” Pulling out of his thoughts, Wally took command and placed his hands on Artemis’s waist like the other Kaznians. The touches were as familiar as breathing to him—with Artemis’s body pressed against his own. It’d been what he missed when she was away with Kaldur.

 

So why didn’t he feel any better?

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Artemis’s arms wrapped around him. She looked beautiful—with those ringlets in her blond hair and eyeliner that brought out her always-planning eyes. The sleek black dress she wore brought all of Wally’s thoughts back to prom. “You have to admit—beats going to prom any day.”

 

“I only remember how beautiful you looked.” Smile gracing his lips, Wally squeezed Artemis warmly in his arms. They followed the melody, dancing like one unit. One person. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there in the past year. Wally regretted being the one that _took it away._ “Artemis, I am so… _sorry_. For being so angry with you, and for keeping you away from all of this. I know that being… _Artemis_ was what made you feel like your own person.”

 

“Hey. Hey—look at me.” Artemis’s calloused archer hand stroked his cheek. She pulled his gaze onto her. “You wanted to retire, and I supported that decision. Kal and Dick thought it best to incorporate a plan—one that _saved the world_. You and _I_ went along with it. You know that I made the decision all on my own. Just like you did to stay retired.”

 

“And you let me try and _convince you_ that retired life was the best idea. Why did you stay with me so long?” Red eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t say it was because of the mission. Missy, I know you better than that.”

 

“To look after you.”

 

Wally’s heart hiccupped.

 

“Because I know _you_ better.” They stopped dancing when the music stopped. In the background, Queen Perdita could be heard addressing the room. Artemis’s gaze settled on him, fretful, and the teasing air was gone for good. “You’ve been off your game, Wally. Dick told me that. He’s—concerned—”

 

“He shouldn’t be.” Except Nightwing had every right to be worried. Wally loosened his arms around Artemis and took a step back. He resisted the urge to glare at the ground and the defensiveness that’d grown instinctive over the years.  Wally couldn’t _play_ that game anymore. He couldn’t afford it. “Except…he should. Arty, when this is over—”

 

_Alpha Team. Regroup at bunker to exchange notes and prep for mission._

The mind-link laced through Wally’s mind, feeling almost _intrusive._ Artemis wasn’t bothered by it. Instead, she nodded and smiled weakly at him. “My mom misses you. She wants you to come over and have _banh boc loc_ with us.”

 

Wally smiled back with even less enthusiasm. “It’s a date.”

 

He kissed her.

 

Wait a minute—whoa, whoa, whoa. He did _what_?

 

Pulling back, Wally’s eyes widened in surprise. “Arty, I am so—I didn’t mean anything by that—”

 

She cradled his face and kissed him more firmly.

 

The scent of her covert perfume filled his nose. It was the same scent that tainted his bed since she left all the way back in March, feeling as much like home as _Mom and Dad and Barry and Iris and Bart and Jay and Joan and Donny and Dawn_ did. Blond ringlets brushed against his cheeks, much like prom, and the sensation of her body against his almost felt… _right._

 

But it wasn’t… _flat_ , like his best friend. Ebony black bangs weren’t brushing against the space between his eyebrows or tickling him into sneezing. He didn’t feel the intensity and raw passion of _Dick’s_ arms wound tightly over him, nor the tongue that would drag on the underside of his mouth, _teasing_ him like one of their little games when they were kids and _licking_ the narrow gaps between Wally’s teeth while Wally attempted to do the same.

 

There wasn’t Sweet Pea.

 

When Wally pulled back, he felt… _free._ A weight lifted off his shoulders—one that’d been there since he retired from the team with his best girl at his side. The confusion was dizzying. He looked to her in curiosity and effort to form an apologetic response—

 

—and found that Artemis looked as blank-faced as he did.

 

“Nothing?” he stepped back from her.

 

“Nothing,” Artemis confirmed. She made a face—something between a grimace and a smirk. “It…felt like one of _our_ kisses, but it didn’t…”

 

“Have _us_ anymore.” Wally couldn’t believe that it’d been over a month since they _officially_ broke up. “I still love you, Artemis, but I don’t think that it’s—”

 

“—what we both want anymore.”

 

The demeanors exchanged between them were mixed. With grief and relief.

 

Artemis nudged him in the arm and kissed him again—this time on the cheek. She sighed. “Glad to put an answer to that question mark, Baywatch.”

 

“Yeah. Me too. Also—” Wally grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward someone that was more deserving of her love. “Go for it. I know you want to.”

 

Once Kaldur came into view, Artemis’s grin—if not already happy—looked more delighted. And of course—more like her. He looked conflicted, out of place, and always—self-sacrificing. Conner, Kaldur, Artemis, and Wally all regrouped.

 

In an instant, Artemis pulled Kaldur down and laid a big one on him.

 

 _About time,_ Conner announced.

 

 _Yeah. You were right, man._ Wally wondered if his grin could be felt through the mind link. _Kaldur and Artemis are **so** obvie. _

 

 _WOO!_ Impulse’s shout nearly deafened them. _Kartemis is a go!_

 

“Why did you do that?” Kaldur muttered softly. The red in his cheeks were uncanny. He cradled Artemis close and looked like he was trying his best not to smile.

 

“Because you and I have wanted it for a long time.” Artemis smiled at him gingerly. “Don’t think for once that _anyone_ is more important to me than you, Kal.”

 

 _Hate to break up the new couple_ , Nightwing said, _but rendezvous was mentioned ten minutes ago._

 

Kaldur looked between all of them. He nodded. _Rendezvous will happen as planned._

 

Their happiness could be felt from _miles_ away.

 

**xxx**

The ETA on this bomb being disarmed seemed perfect. Meaning, Dick and Babs couldn’t crack it.

 

Nightwing pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration and took a long hard sip of his Vietnamese coffee. The good news was, the longer they took to decrypt the files, the richer the brew. The bad news: there were at least six fire walls and only one done. The latter already took two hours to decode.

 

“I don’t understand the encryption,” Batgirl responded. She looked at the same length of paper for the seventieth time, begging for it to make up a pattern for her. It’d printed off the Bioship as soon as the pair did an initial scan of the bomb. “I’ve tried every decryption program we have in the Batcave’s database. Every single one of them fall short on answers.”

 

“That’s not what I like to hear.” Trying to crack open a bomb usually didn’t frustrate Nightwing so much. Especially if _detonation_ wasn’t a problem. Maybe Wally was right. Extracting this should have been his thing.

 

“Don’t tell me that Dick Grayson can’t handle this situation.” The tone of her voice was as cool as ice. Batgirl’s demeanor and attention supposedly remained on the bomb at the table. It didn’t. “Your mental stability is questionable.”

 

“Personal feelings are to be left outside the mission.”

 

“Unless certain personal feelings should compromise the mission and put teammates at risk.”

 

Sigh. “If you’re talking about—”

 

“I am.” Batgirl’s gaze flickered upward. Her knowing orbs narrowed at him. “Dick, you came to the Halloween Party looking _terrible_ , and then you left on a week-long mission with Artemis to find the whereabouts of her dad. I know this hasn’t been an easy year for you, but Batman and Robin are starting to notice. And I don’t mean _notice._ I mean assess your stability to keep patrolling and your ability to still lead Young Justice.”

 

Nightwing hesitated. It was true. After the Halloween Party, Artemis knew how distraught he was. She asked him to join her on a mission—something to clear their heads—and so Nightwing could assess just what to _do._ That was when he gave Artemis all the details of Wally’s status. Including the fact Wally wanted to propose.

 

“I’m telling this to you because you’re my friend. You and I go way back.”

 

Dick wasn’t sure if he could debate if it was a right or wrong decision or not anymore. It was _wrong._ Accepting Wally’s request for this was very much based on personal feelings and it felt _right_ at the time. Dick wasn’t even sure what state their relationship was in right now.

 

“I’ve hacked into the second firewall.” Barbara interrupted his thoughts before Dick could further his escapades in self-loathing.

 

 _Just in time._ M’gann phased through the ceiling and Bart vibrated after her. Amber eyes reeked with urgent news. _We think we know who’s behind those attacks._

 

 _I checked the halls. Inconspicuously and all that whatnot jazz of course._ Bart nodded like a puppy. _Guards are with the Vlatavan and Kaznian Royal Families for a fourth meal. The Dining Room is debugged. But man, these Europeans sure like to **eat.**_

_They know how I roll._ Wally grinned. He, Superboy, Tigress, and Aqualad converged.

 

 _Not all the invited guests showed up._ Kaldur’s expression tensed. _Those who did not arrive protest the wedding. The unity of Princess Audrey and Queen Perdita would strengthen their military forces. While Perdita has claimed that Vlatava is a neutral country, Kaznia would not hesitate to side with France during the war. Almost every guest who declined invitation is a suspect._

_The Queen and Princess are safe,_ Kid Flash announced. _But the switch needs to happen as soon as possible. With less people in the palace, it’ll be easier to pull off an assassination without raising heads._

_Impulse and I found these in the areas that we debugged._ M’gann pulled off her satchel and levitated objects out of it. Small, circular-shaped objects. 4 x 4 inches.

 

Impulse nodded. _We didn’t pluck them all. It’d risk tipping off the bad-big Baddie._

 

 _They’re mini explosives. Like my birdarangs and Batgirl’s batarangs._ The design held a _lot_ of similarities with the bomb. Looking over to Barbara, Dick and she exchanged firm nods. _Extracting these will be a lot easier than this bomb._

 

 _I don’t understand though,_ Wally said. _You have to have at least fifteen of those in there. If there are that many planted in the rooms, you have to wonder why no one’s ever spotted them._

 

 _You don’t **have** to wonder if it’s possible there are traitors working under Queen Perdita’s nose. Double agents. _ Impulse tapped his foot impatiently to the ground and gestured to the elder members of the team. _You know—like Aqualad and Tigress._

The said pair looked at each other—sheepish, but no one said a word. The gaze extended from them to Dick—who realized Wally was staring at him. The shimmer in Wally’s eyes struck Dick in the chest—hard. So curious and…and honest. Dick wanted to know what Wally was thinking and—duh. Mind-link.

 

Wally arched an eyebrow. His lips curled along with it.

 

No one commented. Dick cleared his throat and brushed his fingers over the mini-explosive.

 

“Wait.” Impulse’s voice drew them all in. He zipped to the table where the bomb lay and scanned it. Within seconds, Impulse picked apart the bomb—three coats disassembled until he had parts of the shell in his grasp. “I know this crea—”

 

Wally quickly skidded forward and slapped a hand over his cousin’s mouth. _Future tech?_

 

 _Not future. Family._ Bart hopped onto the table and held the bomb in his hands. _This has Eobard Thawne written all over it! He’s my **mom’s** side of the family! A famous scientist from Keystone City who was one of the rebels of the Reach when they first took over and an **avid** Flash_ — _uh-oh._

 

 _“Fuck.”_ Wally’s eyes widened. He took his hands off Bart’s mouth and turned to Dick once again.  “Fuck—”

 

“What?” Nightwing’s lips morphed into a frown.

 

“Zoom is Grandpa! I mean—not _Grandpa_ , there’s only one _Grandpa_ —well no, not really because Zoom has all the powers of the Flash—is super speed, his molecular vibrations, his everything—and he can timetravel and oh my god, I come from a line of villains, _villains_!” Bart sped around in circles and pulled at his hair. “I can’t pull of guyliner to be the grandson of a villain—”

 

“Zoom.” Batgirl frowned and cocked her head to Nightwing. “You mean the speed devil who caught us off guard at Luthor’s facility a few weeks back?”

 

“Zoom didn’t _exist_ in my future.” Bart’s expression suddenly shriveled. “Eobard Thawne died early on in the rebellion. His daughter, Meloni Thawne, was found by the Tornado Twins and Dad fell in love with her. Zoom must be—”

 

“From the new timeline. How _big_ of a fan of the Flash is he?” Wally looked back to his cousin.

 

“Big. As in, _sacrifice life in the name of the Flash_ big.” Impulse gritted his teeth and smacked his face. “If Count Vertigo is suspected, then Zoom must be a supplier.”

 

“Then it’s a _trap._ ” Superboy was the next to speak. He looked urgently between the two speeders and seethed. “We’ve been playing his hands since we _got here_.”

 

“No. _I’ve been._ ” Wally snarled and knotted his hair with a fist just like his cousin. Only with one hand. “This is my mission. _My mission._ Zoom’s been trying to pluck me out of the Flash Family since he’s first arrived, like I’m _worthless_. He’s _playing me_ , like he did back in _Keystone._ ”

 

“Wait. You’ve had a second meeting with him?” Nightwing frowned.

 

In that instance, Wally and Conner exchanged looks. Dick’s chest tightened irritably.

 

“ _Agh_!” Bart stood still. His hands curled into fists and he matched Wally’s scowl. “This _wasn’t_ in the history books! Flash is in _Iceland_ right now—what the heck are _we_ supposed to do?”

 

“You don’t do anything.” Wally pulled Bart back. “I do.”

 

“ _Wally._ ” Superboy reached out and grabbed Wally by the shoulder. The redhead didn’t seem to notice until he was being pulled back by a much stronger being. “Don’t be _stupid._ You can’t _handle_ Zoom in your condition. You lost your _legs_ last time—”

 

_Legs?_

 

“Do the switch.” Wally whirled around, eying _everyone_ but Superboy, Impulse, or Nightwing. “I have a score to settle.”

 

_WOOSH_

 

“ ** _WALLY_** _! **DAMMIT!”**_ Superboy screamed at the top of his lungs and went to punch the nearest object: the wall. Miss M lifted him into the air— _as far away_ from destruction as possible.

 

“I can catch him,” Impulse said instantly. He pulled his goggles over his face. “With my speed—”

 

“With your speed,” Dick started, “you stay here. That’s an order. You too, Superboy.”

 

“What the hell is going on?” Artemis demanded. She crossed her arms and glared at Dick. “Why is my ex-boyfriend trying to settle a score with someone named _Zoom_ , and why was I not informed of this debacle sooner, _Dick?_ ”

 

“Should we follow through with Wally’s order?” M’gann asked. She rubbed her temples and went to check her boyfriend. “I mean—I know he’s not the leader of this mission, but Zoom aside, we need to help prevent an International Incident before it becomes a war.”

 

“That’s all very true, M’gann. But.” Nightwing gritted his teeth and stepped forward. He eyed _both_ Impulse and Superboy for the last time before his patience ran thin. “Standard protocol states no personal or emotional trouble compromise the objective of the mission.”

 

Behind him, he could hear Babs’s sigh. Whether or not it was relief or frustration, Dick couldn’t determine.

 

“Kid Flash’s personal and emotional status is _compromising the mission._ And I know you two know why.” Dick ushered both boys toward him, and neither declined. “No more secrets. _Talk._ ”


	13. Truths, Vertigo, Bomb, Run

_‘Wally.’_ M’gann’s voice was dire in his ear.

 

Wally was pissed. _Furious._ Zoom had been playing him from the start. All the possibilities formed in his head—Zoom knew he would go on this mission because it meant _a lot_ to him. Zoom was a timetraveler. The two times they tussled combined with this mission _all made sense._ All of it.

 

Well—most of it.

 

Zoom personally sought the Flash Family out because Zoom was _family._ A disgusting piece of _trash_ future in-law who beat up Wally’s uncle, sprained his baby cousin’s arm— _taunted_ Wally with the twin cousin babies—and clearly never saw Wally as a viable threat to his plans.

 

He was never perceived as a threat. The Fastest Man Alive, current Fastest Teen Alive, and two tiny babies were more important than Zoom—which, Wally would never put down, but it _was_ a little ego bruiser. But the way Zoom sounded, the man planned on rewriting all of Speedster History. Everyone was at risk—except for him. Because Wally was apparently a _half-breed ingrate_ who couldn’t get the formula right.

 

Halting, Wally’s yellow boots pressed to the ground. They still felt like a second skin to him, like he was _born_ to run. Half of him was already broken. Zoom was right—he got the formula wrong. And Wally was paying for it.

 

More times in this year than ever.

 

 _‘ **Wally**_.’ His name came in brute force in his mind, a mixture of his comrades’ voices. M’gann’s direness pushed through once again, mixed with Artemis’s irritation, Dick’s solemnity, Conner’s anger, Barbara’s seriousness, Kaldur’s sense of urgency, and Bart’s pain.

 

 _‘What_?’ Wally asked. He stood in his guest room, suited in stealth mode with the lightning bolt proudly beaming on his chest like a family emblem.

 

The door suddenly opened, and a tuxedo-wearing Supey was on the other side. His hard gaze struck Wally like diamonds, shoulders firm. The look he gave _frightened_ Wally.

 

Across the room, their shared window opened, revealing four of his other teammates. Impulse—no, _Bart_ —zipped through the door and stood parallel to him. M’gann floated through the ceiling, and she looked at him, heartbroken.

 

Uh. ‘ _You and Arty need to do the switch. You’ve got a speedster—I’ll just go track down Zoom.’_ Wally reached for his goggles and placed them over his head. ‘ _You had it planned, right? Having me leave shouldn’t hurt you.’_

 

Nightwing stood by the door, shadows of the palace melding with the contour of his cheekbones. Outside, snow brewed in heavy heaps, preparing Vlatavans for a normal winter. Artemis stood between him and Kaldur, dressed in her Tigress getup. Kaldur looked over to him, lips contorted into a heavy frown, and Batgirl seemed furious.

 

 _‘Wally.’_ Kaldur sighed aloud. It deafened the room. ‘ _You are off this mission.’_

**_‘What?_** _Why?’_ Kid Flash’s eyes widened. And then they put the details together. Wally turned to his cousin—who _should_ have looked guilty, but didn’t—and to Supey—who had the same frown since Kid Flash joined the mission. ‘ _You told.’_

 

 _‘Your physical condition will only get **worse** if you remain on this mission. If—if **Zoom** appears to gloat like an evil lunatic. Cuzzo—you—you didn’t tell me you were **dying.’**_ Bart was crestfallen. The tears he held back were now threatening to run down his cheeks. ‘ _You didn’t—’_

_‘I said I was going to tell everyone **after** the mission!’ _Wally threw his hands in the air and scowled. ‘ _You **promised** that you wouldn’t tell!’_

**_‘Don’t_** _blame him.’_ To Wally’s surprise, Dick appeared beside Bart and pushed the younger boy behind him. Beneath the lenses, those blue eyes burned holes at him. ‘ _Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?’_

Wally’s throat constricted. He glared straight back. ‘ _You asked?’_

_‘I needed to know._ _Wally_ —’ Nightwing threw his hands in front of him. ‘ _I—I don’t even know where to **start** with you! You coerced me into putting you on this mission—’_

_‘I didn’t coerce you_ ,’ Wally snapped immediately. ‘ _You backed me up.’_

_‘I agreed to your placement on the team because—’_

 

 _‘Out of bias. Because we’ve done this dance and you were **happy** that I’d be there!’ _Wally jabbed a finger at his best friend’s— _ex_ -best friend’s chest. ‘ _I finally do what you want and you want me **off** the team!’ _

 

 _‘Wally, don’t you **dare**_ _yell at him.’_ Artemis’s voice hissed in is ears. Guilt bubbled in Wally’s chest as he heard her voice. Her jaw tightened and she demanded his attention. ‘ _I can’t believe you have the **nerve** to lash out at **him** and your **own cousin** like you’re the victim here. In all the time we were together—oh my god, **all that time**_ **—** you **_kept_** _that from me. **Me.** And **him** , your best friend and—and **all of us**! We’re your **oldest friends** and you didn’t have the gall to **tell us.’**_

****

_‘I didn’t want you to worry.’_ Wally’s gaze fell to the ground. His hands—hand—coiled into a fist. ‘ _Because **worrying** meant you’d **freak out** and take me off the mission. This is the **mole thing** all over again.’ _

_‘This is **nothing** like the mole thing.’ _ A blond eyebrow poked into the air, and Kaldur stared at the redhead—wondering how Wally had the _audacity_ to compare the two situations.

 

 _‘Oh, yeah. Totally isn’t.’_ Scoff. ‘ _You don’t **trust** me. You want me **off** the team, just like you wanted Aqualad to—’_

**_‘THAT IS NOT THE POINT!’_ **

 

Wally _jumped_ when Kaldur yelled at him through the mind link. Kaldur had his moments of impatience—but never _once_ since Wally knew him did Kaldur ever yell at a teammate. He stared at his once-leader in surprise before forcing the shock down. Wally scowled back. ‘ _Looks like you need some water. You’re letting off some big steam there, Kaldur.’_

 

It took a second before Wally realized Dick grabbed him by the dead arm. Nihtwing yanked him close—and within seconds, he pulled off KF’s glove and cupboard. ‘ _Your fingers are stiff. Like pre-Rigor Mortis. Shoulders—you can’t even move it, can you?’_

 

The cold weather made it easy to hide that part. Jackets, sweatshirts, and all of his other overcoats let him stuff his dead hand into a pocket and just move the other. He was semi-ambidextrous anyway.

 

 _‘How do you expect to perform well on this mission if you can’t even keep your balance while you run?’_ Nightwing flung the hand back toward Wally. It didn’t hurt.

 

 _‘Where do you get off telling me what I can and can’t do?’_ Wally jabbed his other hand toward Nightwing’s chest. If he had full control of his body, Kid Flash would be half a second away from punching his best friend.

 

Which—probably wasn’t the best thought to have.

 

Screw it. He didn’t care anymore.

 

_‘I’m telling you because I am your leader—’_

_‘We founded the team together! The **three of us**!’ _ Wally whirled around and pointed his good hand toward Kaldur. ‘ _You can’t be my leader if I have the same amount of experience as you—’_

_‘You have been **retired.** For **years.’**_ Aqualad cut him off. ‘ _We have all missed you on the team, Wally, but that decision was your **best** decision. Go home. The mission will run without you.’ _

_‘No.’_

_‘No?’_ was the collective surprise.

 

 _‘Perdita is my mission. She was always been my mission. I’m not standing down.’_ Wally turned back to Nightwing. He glared bitterly at the guy he once called his best friend. ‘ _I can’t believe **you’re** not agreeing with me.’_

 

Nightwing scowled back. ‘ _Either you stand down from this mission, or we no longer back you up. If Kid Flash creates an international incident, it will be **your** responsibility to cover. We won’t help you. Not us, not the league—no one. You act on your own and sort through the consequences afterwards.’_

_‘I am **not—’**_

****

_‘I am **tired** , KF,’ _Dick cut him off. ‘ _Of thinking everything is my fault. I’m not taking whatever else you’re stupid enough to dish out. Stand down, or **end this conversation.**_ A grimace. _Because right now, you’re making a fool out of yourself.’_

Wally’s breath hitched. He maintained his gaze with his _so-called leader_. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

 

A quiet sigh left Nightwing’s lips. He brushed his fingers against his temples—and it _hurt._

 

Dick _expected_ him to have this reaction.

 

 _‘Am I **that** far down the hole with you?’ _ Wally gritted his teeth. ‘ _Fine—just whatever.’_

Kid Flash stole his glove back and rushed through the door.

 

As fast as he could.

 

**xxx**

_‘Cuzzo—’_

Dick pressed a hand to his face and let out a breath. He grabbed Bart by the back of the speedster’s cowl before they were down another speedster. ‘ _I’ll get him. Perform the switch and make sure everything else goes as planned.’_

_‘Agreed.’_

 

With a heavy sigh, Nightwing opened the door and chased after Wally. He didn’t have to go far—once he turned the corner, Wally was marching through a corridor towards one of the Vlatavan Palace’s many dining halls. ‘ _Wally—’_

**_‘No.’_ **

****

_‘No, what? Wally, **stop—’**_

 

 ** _‘No, everything!’_** Wally whirled around and jabbed his finger into Nightwing’s chest. His face was red with fury, and the scowl over his lips made Nightwing’s heart waver. ‘ _You know, seeing you last night was probably the **best** I’ve felt in a **long** time! And you want me to **drop this mission.** I can’t **believe** you went behind my back and—’_

_‘ENOUGH!’_ Nightwing shouted back. He threw his hands in the air. The vibrato of his own voice in his head pounded in his mind.Wally withdrew—even taking a step back. ‘ _Do you even know what we’re—what **I’m** feeling right now because of you? You’re **DYING!** And **all** you can talk about is how **good** we were last night!’_

_‘Like you even **care** what I do. You’ve been **avoiding me!’**_

_‘Because I don’t just let anyone up my **ass!’**_ Dick hissed back.Dammit. He pressed a hand to his face and seethed. Through the tiny slits between his fingers, he saw Wally’s scowl slacken.

 

_‘I thought you wanted that to be a onetime thing.’_

 

 _‘Well I didn’t, okay?’_ Letting out a bated breath, Dick realized how fast his heart was beating. With every pulse came an ache twice as painful as the last. It shook so hard that it swelled until rubbing against his ribcage—ready to break free and explode with every emotion he’d had since he was thirteen. ‘ _I didn’t.’_

_‘I didn’t either.’_ Wally’s expression shriveled. His eyes glistened with its beautiful hue of emerald, just like hours ago.

 

From the bottom of his aching heart, Dick wished he wasn’t here.

 

 _Dick,_ he said with a humorless chuckle _, ‘I wanna be with you **so** **bad**.’ _

The younger man held his ground. ‘ _That’s not an option right now.’_

_‘Why not?’_ Wally asked back, barely a second later. The tone of his voice was laced with a demanding bark, but all Nightwing was aware of was the desperation in Wally’s face. ‘ _Dick, I’ve had feelings for you since we were **kids.** And I feel like you’re **always avoiding them—‘**_

****

**_‘Because_** _you’re **dying**_.’ Dick grabbed the redhead by the arm. ‘ _Your status is first priority. Flash— **Barry** —will be informed, with or without your consent.’_

Anger surged through the mind link. Wally used his other hand to take the other one back. ‘ _Just because I can’t feel anything doesn’t mean you can yank me around.’_

_‘Wally, you’re my best friend—’_

_‘We are **not** friends—’_

_‘—do you really think I want you to **die**?’ _ Wally was dying. He had six _freaking months_ to live, and that was if he took his head out of his ass and listened to the team and his doctors at STAR Labs. Coping with that thought—it was bigger than Dick. Not _one person_ in Wally’s family knew about this except for those in Alpha. Seeing Mary West cry and sob for her baby boy while Barry fought blaming himself for Wally getting his powers to _begin with_ were not images Dick liked in his head.

 

The concern must have pushed its way into the link. Wally’s breath caught, defeated. ‘ _I was going to tell you.’_

_‘Please step down from the mission.’_ Dick’s hands curled and uncurled.

 

_‘You think I’m going to fail?’_

**_‘Please.’_ **

A long silence floated between them. The guy that Dick knew since childhood and grown into an idiot. That—was not a surprise. But this type of idiocy was not the type that Dick liked. Wally drew a breath. ‘ _Well—’_

**_BOOOM!!!_ **

****

**xxx**

_‘Kid Flash, Nightwing!’_ Aqualad’s voice rang in the mind link. ‘ _Status report! What happened?’_

Wally’s head pounded. His good shoulder ached from impact with the wall and everything else _hurt._ Smoke expanded like fog across the room, soaking everything in the scent of smoldering plaster. ‘ _Fine, Aqualad—we got it with an explosive.’_

 

Looks like they weren’t as _inconspicuous_ as they thought. Fuck. As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

 

Aqualad grunted in response. ‘ _Status, Nightwing?’_

_‘I’ll find him.’_ Kid Flash pulled the goggles over his eyes and flickered to infrared. He raised his good arm to clear the debris and—cringed. Pain shot up his forearm. Crap. ‘ _No good—I think I hurt something.’_

 

A hand shot out and touched his shoulder.

 

_‘Whoa—’_

_‘Just me.’_ Nightwing appeared. He ran his fingers down Wally’s shoulder and ran it down to Wally’s wrist. The speedster cringed and audibly groaned. ‘ _Looks like you fucked up the other arm too.’_

_‘Thanks for the pretty words, doc.’_ Wally glared back, only to be caught off guard when Dick wrapped his wrist just as firmly with gauze.

 

 _‘Still think you can fight?’_ His exasperating _medic_ asked.

 

Scanning the area, Wally responded, ‘ _I don’t think I have a choice.’_

_This_ was just great. He was still pissed off at everyone on his team, but now he was down _both_ arms. _‘There has to be at least five guys. Five and a leader_.’

 

_‘Can you make a funnel?’_

On the bright side, this heavy conversation would definitely be pushed to later. ‘ _I can try. Get your batarangs ready.’_

 

Wally twisted as best he could—but it was obvious that he was off balance. Dammit—he hurt _all over._

 

 _‘Sending Impulse your way.’_ Kaldur said. _‘Miss Martian, open the link up to everyone.’_

_‘Mind link opened. Should we continue our mission?’_ she asked.

 

 _‘Yes_ ,’ Batgirl said. ‘ _Princess Audrey and Queen Perdita are safe and sound in the bunker. All the guards are under my surveillance and accounted for.’_

 

 _‘Mind link open? What does that mean?’_ Wally asked. He set his feet firmly to the ground and wiped ash off his face. Amongst the group of people stood _ten_ people—four of them dressed as Vlatavan Guards. Impulse was right—there were supporters right under the queen’s nose.

 

 _‘I’m guessing a two-way come and go. We couldn’t get their thoughts, but they could get ours. Now it’s equal.’_ Nightwing whipped out his eskrima sticks.

 

 _‘Wow. Embarrassing much?’_ Wally dodged an electric rod to the face by dropping to his stomach, then flipped to his back.

 

 _‘That is the least of our worries right now and you know it.’_ The acrobat shoved an elbow against a guard’s stomach, then plucked Wally off the ground.

 

Kid hooked his good arm with a thug—ignored the pain that shot through—and spun around once more before letting him fly. He bit another minion, who immediately screamed.

 

Dick knocked three guys to their asses before looking over to the redhead incredulously. ‘ _Did you just—?’_

_‘Hey—no arms. Working with my resources.’_ Wally licked his teeth and spit into the ground.

 

_‘You better hope that his skin isn’t laced with poison—’_

_‘Poison, Dick? **Really?’**_ Wally hooked his foot into another man’s ankle and tripped him. Gritting his teeth, Wally couldn’t help his own frustration. Don’t panic. That’d make things worse. One arm not working was maneuverable—but with a sprain in the other, it made him all legs and no limbs.

 

And it was just him, or were these goons multiplying?

 

A punch in the face set him stumbling backwards.

 

 _‘I’ve got you—’_ Nightwing kicked said puncher and looped his legs to the man’s torso. He flipped backwards and rammed the goon into the floor ‘ _Get out of here—’_

_‘You need me!’_ Kid Flash scowled.

Nightwing matched it. _‘I need you to be **safe—!’**_

_‘Will—’_

_‘--you—’_

_‘--all—’_

_‘--just—’_

****

**_‘--shut up?!—’_ **

****

_‘Please?’_ Kaldur sighed in frustration.

 

 _‘You love him, he loves you, one of you is dying—can we just save this bad romance Nicholas Sparks novel for later?’_ Artemis’s ire hit them hard through the link.

 

 _‘I never said I loved him,’_ Wally protested fiercely. Looking to the corner of his eye, he imagined those bright blue eyes shining in his direction. ‘ _But I do, if that counts for anything.’_

Psywaves burst through the hall, and Wally yelped before collapsing to the ground.

 

“What the—”

 

Count Vertigo appeared, in all his real glory at the forced entrance. His head was held high and lips were curled into a smirk. “Ah, Kid Flash. We meet again.”

 

“Always a pleasure, _Count.”_ The said speedster sunk his teeth into his numb fingers. The pain of the pulsations peeled at his skin. Wally’s stomach bubbled, nauseous.

_“KF!”_ Nightwing shouted. He ran toward the redhead—only to be blocked off by five more guards.

 

Count Vertigo’s footsteps made the waves reverb as he paraded forward. The ex-Royal chuckled deeply and smirked. “What I wouldn’t give to _kill you.”_

 

“What, you wanna try and fail like with your niece?” Wally tried for a grin. “Sorry—no on both accounts.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

 _“Ah!”_ Wally hissed as the waves hit him harder.

 

Out of nowhere, Impulse rushed to the scene and leapt on top of the count. He slammed both fists into Vertigo’s face in rapid motions. “Sorry! He’s right—you’re wrong on _both_ accounts.”

 

“What took you so long?’ The elder speedster grinded his teeth. Once the psywaves were knocked off course, he stood to his feet.

 

“Hey—you know how many rooms there are in a palace?” Impulse snorted and jumped away from Count. He circled around the old Royal, cutting off air supply. “I stepped through like, twenty-seven royal bathrooms before I found this hall.”

 

“What a nice round number,” Wally grumbled. He ducked as Nightwing threw another Royal traitor across the hall and watched Count fall to the ground. “Nice. You too, Imp.”

 

“Yeah, well—you taught me well.” The brunet halted and flashed concern for his elder cousin. “And. It’s time for you to stand down.”

 

Wally sighed. “Imp—’

 

“Wally,” Bart said, his voice holding a string of anger. Fear trembled in his tone. “We’re not headed anywhere near my future. But that also means you’re not heading anywhere near that cure. I. I don’t want to carry a dead body back to Uncle Rudy and Aunt Mary. Please?”

 

“Okay. I’ll stand down.”

 

Relief glowed in Bart’s eyes. He sighed and finally looked at peace. “Good.”

 

Dick’s hand made a way to Wally’s shoulder. The good one. “We’ll talk, oka—?”

 

Count Vertigo woke up.

 

 _“LOOK OUT!”_ Wally shoved Impulse out of the way. Blasts of psywaves hit both Nightwing and he at the same time. They fell to the ground, pain hitting them like baseball bats beating a drumset. The blood in Wally’s veins buzzed fiercely, violently, and _burned._ Every cell felt pierced by a rotating knife, blades dug deep into skin.

 

For the first time in years, Wally _felt_ his dead arm.

 

The numbness _seared_ like flames to his skin and he _screamed._

 

“ _WALLY!”_ Impulse shouted.

 

The comm.-link buzzed against his ear at the same time, and he heard an explosive.

 

 _“Batgirl!”_ Aqualad shouted. “ _Batgirl, state your position!”_

_“Explosives!_ ” Batgirl gasped. _“The bunker was bugged. I need assistance getting guards and Audrey and Perdita out—our plan’s a failure, they knew from the start.”_

_“Impulse, go.”_ Kaldur ordered. _“We’ll get there as soon as we can.”_

 

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Wally looked over to see Bart’s gaze darting back and forth between Count Vertigo and his teammates. The brunet winced. _“Count Vertigo’s here. We’re kinda busy—”_

_“Go,”_ Wally cut him off. The pain could be heard in his voice, and he knew Bart wouldn’t let that slide. “I’ve got Nighty, the Queen needs you more.”

 

The conflict in Bart’s eyes was heartbreaking. But the Queen and Princess were more important. He nodded swiftly and turned his feet. Not before saying, _“I’ll be back—stay—not dead.”_

“Copy.” The grin over Wally’s lips was painful. As soon as Bart was out of sight, Wally’s head hit the ground and couldn’t help his next scream. What the _hell_ was going on? Beside him, Nightwing’s hands fisted the ground. The other man looked gray in the face. ‘ _Nightwing_ ,’ Wally ordered—assuming the link was still active. ‘ _Stay whelmed!’_

Another burst of waves made it hard for Wally to follow his own advice.

 

These…these weren’t psywaves. Wally’s gaze narrowed to the badge that adorned Vertigo’s chest—which was more decked out than he remembered.

 

“You finally understand what is going on?” Vertigo grinned darkly. The royal traitors and followers slowly gathered to their feet, while the Count inched closer. “It is new technology, thanks to a _friend of mine._ ” _Zoom_. “My headgear now collaborates with the badge on my chest to upset your blood cells. Now it has a dual design to _take you down_. He told me what pitiful state you are in, _Wally West._ How pathetic you look.”

“You kidding?” Wally choked on the saliva and felt the blood trickle down his nostril. He wiped it on his dead arm. “This is me letting you think you’ve won. Trust me, _your royal asshole_ , you’re not winning.”

 

The waves stopped, but Wally couldn’t move his body. Everything _ached._

He couldn’t move. Oh _god_ , Wally couldn’t feel his body.

 

The fear sunk in, but was quickly washed away when everything he _could_ feel throbbed. His dead arm felt lifeless, and his good arm felt broken. Count Vertigo kicked him over to his back and pulled him up by the collar.

 

Wally’s feet tingled with pain. He dropped his façade once he saw Nightwing on the ground, unconscious.

 

“What did you do to me?” he whispered.

 

“A favor.” Count Vertigo grinned manically. He pulled out a metal device—twice the length of Wally’s hand—and latched it to Wally’s good arm. It pierced through the bandages, penetrated skin, and connected in the bone of his forearm.

 

“ _AH—!”_  Two red LED lights blinked below his palm. Wally gasped for air as the pain _swelled._ “What the _hell—”_

Count released the redhead’s arm and the device pulled toward the ground. A smirk painted its way across Verigo’s lips, and he examined Wally smugly before tossing him toward the ground. “My _friend_ and I made a deal, Kid Flash. He promised me the throne if I promised to _hurt_ you.”

 

“There’s no way you’re getting the throne.” Despite everything, Wally scrambled toward Nightwing and examined his best friend. (Best, best, _best_ friend—) He sighed in relief when he heard the other hero stir. Looking up, haggard, he held his ground. “You lost your diplomatic immunity _six years a-ago—_ there’s no way you could obtain the c-crown…”

 

“But Vlatavan political law states that should there be a time where the current Queen or King has been killed off, compromised, or any combination of the two, the next or any well-abled relative to the Royal Family of Vlatava may take over the country.” Vertigo chuckled darkly. “My lovely niece’s ability to lead has already been deemed controversial by those who do not believe in—what is it that you Americans call it? _Gay Marriage._ Should she be injured, as my sources claim, then it is up to the people to elect the officer to lead their country.”

 

Dammit. Nightwing woke up—he remained where he was. Good.

 

“And what about the news when it relays back to Vlatavan Parliament?” Kid Flash scowled. “A second attempt at death doesn’t look good on your permanent record, Count.”

 

“Why would someone blame the _Count_ if the rebellion was clearly done by those who did not support your views?” Count Vertigo threw his head back to laugh before pulling out a small, rectangular device no thicker than an eyelash. No doubt more future tech. “Now, _about_ my plans to _hurt_ you—”

 

“It takes a lot to take me down, Count.” The redhead gritted his teeth. “Just sayin’.”

 

“The _bomb_ that I attached to your wrist has enough power to take out an entire country.” Fuck. The other man smirked back, unfazed. “Once I press this, you and your partner there along with _everyone_ in the country will be disintegrated.”

 

_Fuck._

 

“What good is _ruling a country_ if you’re going to die too when it explodes?” Kid Flash’s gaze fell to the device.

 

“Because Zoom and I know quite well that you will run out of here as soon as you can to avoid casualties.” Count Vertigo placed his hands behind him. “Now there is a bright side—you may prevent the bomb from going off.”

 

“And how would I do _that?_ ”

 

“You must remain in perpetual motion at the speed of 1000 Miles Per Second.” Count Vertigo grinned. “Should you stop or slow down at any point during the duration of one minute, it will explode. Should you attempt to vibrate it off yoru wrist, it will explode.”

 

Wally blanched. “But…I can’t…”

 

“Go that fast?” Count Vertigo laughed. “I was informed of that.”

 

 

“What a shame.” The Count waved his hand dismissively. “This remote will explode after I press it. A small explosion, don’t worry—but you know what that means for you.”

 

No chance of hacking the tech to stop the explosive internally.

 

“Ready. Set—”

 

Nightwing gripped him by the hand and looked over to Wally urgently. “ _Run!”_

Wally ran.

 

**xxx**

As soon as Wally made it out the broken wall, Dick flipped to his feet and threw three batarang at the ground. The first was a smoke bomb—which quickly exploded and covered the mass of the hall. The second one exploded on impact and grew into polyurethane foam. Good. It stopped at least a dozen Count-followers. Then Dick retrieved his eskrima sticks and pummeled the next two that crossed his path. He clutched them tightly between his hands and stared angrily at Count Vertigo as the dust dissipated.

 

The remote, just as Vertigo declared, exploded.

 

Nightwing was mad.

 

 _Beyond_ mad.

 

“Now, now.” Count Vertigo chuckled softly. “When I become king, I will make sure that his death names him a hero.”

 

“Sorry, Count. Until Perdita is _deemed_ dead, you’re not king.” Nightwing’s jaw tightened. His hands tightened over the eskrima sticks, anger surging through his fingers. “And just because you bugged my best pal doesn’t mean he’s doomed.”

 

“Oh? Then let us pass the time,” the other man said, “until he dies.”

 

Before Dick could decide it was an impulsive move, he charged toward Count Vertigo and jabbed an elbow into the Count’s stomach when the waves began again. Count Vertigo doubled over, shocked, and Dick stabbed a batarang into the badge. He kicked the man and immediately, Count collapsed.

 

 _‘Nightwing, Status on Count Vertigo._ ’ On cue, Kaldur’s voice rushed through the mind-link.

 

 _‘He’s down. But Wally’s AWOL.’_ Trying to calm himself down, Dick pulled out a pair of handcuffs and locked Count Vertigo’s wrists together. He looked out the entrance to the white snow and saw foot prints. Tens of them—all Wally’s. He brushed a hand over his comm.-link. “Wally, do you read?”

_‘He’s…he’s out of my telepathic-range.’_ Miss M’s voice registered in his mind. _‘What happened?’_

_‘I need a lift to the bunker.’_ Dammit. The footsteps extended yards away—probably tens of miles.

 

_‘Bioship is coming our way. ETA: Thirty Seconds. Meet us on the rooftop, Nightwing.’_

_‘Got it, Miss M.’_ Reaching for his grappling hook, Nighwing let it fly on the outer layer of the palace before shooting toward the roof. He was still _fuming._ Batgirl had been right every single step of the way and he was blinded by… _personal circumstances._ He was sick of Wally lashing out at him, but that didn’t change how cared he was for his best friend’s _life._

_“Dick? Dick—you copy, man?”_

_“KF,”_ Dick breathed. He planted his feet to the palace top and clutched his comm.-link tightly. “What’s going on? Where _are_ you?”

 

 _“Great Wall,”_ Kid responded. Dick heard the speedster curse under his breath, along with the vibrations of Wally’s feet slamming into the ground as he ran. _“Count was right—I can’t even get up to 1000. I’m **screwed.”**_

****

Dick checked his watch. “More than a minute’s already passed. How are you stalling?”

 

“ _Running. I may not be able to keep it from going off, but I can slow it down a bit.”_ Wally sounded cold on the other end. He laughed quietly to himself. _“This…may be the end for me, Nightwing. If it is, then—”_

_“_ I’m not done hearing your cheesy pickup lines.” Dick’s throat constricted. He looked over to his teammates, feeling _helpless._ “Save them for _later_ , you dumbass.”

 

_“I. Might just find a quiet place to explode.”_

_“Don’tyoudare!”_ Impulse’s voice hissed. _“I’ll—”_

_“Stay right where you are and help Batgirl. Perdita is more important.”_ The older speedster seethed. _“Besides—this literally has no good ending. Pretty sure that if I sneezed right now, it’d set it off.”_

“Alpha will go to the bunker to help victims. We’ll call Flash to see if he can help, but…” Nightwing rubbed his temples. “Right now you’re second priority.”

 

_“That’s fine. Just…please. Make sure Queen Perdita is okay.”_

 

“Always the selfless one,” Artemis said. She pressed a hand to her face, frustrated, and looked up to Dick.  “Isn’t he?”

 

The Bioship landed in front of them, and M’gann quickly opened it up for all. Dick explained everything as best he could.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Their ex-archer threw her hands in the air and began typing into the keyboard beside her seat. “First we find out that Wally’s been keeping a secret from us for _years._ He’s dying—” She stopped typing for only a moment, eyes narrowed at the snow below them. “—he’s dying. And now the _mission_ may end with him dead.”

 

Kaldur placed a hand over her shoulder. It was easy to see the pain in his own eyes—he was worried for Artemis, but annoyed with Wally as well.

 

“I’ve tried reaching Flash,” Conner announced. He growled and slammed a hand into his own space. “He won’t be with us for this mission.”

 

“So what do we do?” Miss M’s eyebrows furrowed together and—they _all_ looked over to Nightwing. Aqualad had taken over when Nightwing went to retrieve their eldest friend, but that wasn’t the case now. “You…know Wally the best, Dick. You make the decision.”

 

“We help out Batgirl and send Impulse.” Nightwing cursed to himself. “And we hope Wally hasn’t gone explosive by the time we get over there.”

 

He knew it didn’t sound like a good plan to _any_ of them. M’gann looked at him with worried eyes, and the others apparently accepted the plan with a grain of salt.

 

“ETA on the bunker?” Nightwing asked, when he could assume everyone agreed with the plan.

 

“Two minutes.” Miss M nodded reluctantly.

 

Snow that previously surrounded the bunker was now cleared away by fire. The flames coated the building like a thick blanket, howling at them with the Count’s laugh. Nightwing sucked in the air of ash and asphalt.

 

“Try to tame the fire.” Nightwing placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. “Tigress, Superboy. We’re going to get Impulse, Batgirl, and the civilian that haven’t been retrieved out of there. Aqualad will weaken the flames from the outside. Miss Martian, stay away from them if you can. Try and help from above.”

 

“Roger.” Was the unison reply.

 

‘ _The mind link will be clearer than radio.’_ Kaldur nodded stiffly. “However, keep comm.-links working in case Kid responds. We are in a precarious situation right now.”

“Prepare for dispatch.” Miss Martian opened up a hatch in the center of the room.

 

They grabbed a line and lowered to the top of the building. Aqualad gripped his water bearers, tattoos glowing in the snowy night. “Batgirl, Impulse—we are here. Report?”

 

‘ _Got most of them out. Perdita’s unconscious though. Batgirl’s got her on a respirator, but she and Batgirl are losing oxygen fast—‘_

_‘I can’t_ believe _we didn’t think to debug the bunker.’_ Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘ _Rookie mistake.’_

_‘Happens,’_ Batgirl replied. She sounded weak. ‘ _What we need is to focus on getting the queen to safety. Impulse and I are dealing with a few infiltrators.’_

_‘Then let’s get them outfultrated.’_ Dick touched his eskrima sticks.

 

Aqualad tugged the snow with his sabres and lowered himself next to the Vlatavan firefighters. Summoning more ice and snow, he flung it at the building.

 

 _‘Make a hole right here.’_ Nightwing looked up to Superboy and ran his hand over the asphalt.

 

Superboy raised a fist and hit the mark. The roof crumbled into a decent hole, and they leaped straight into it.

 

 _‘What floor, Batgirl?’_ Tigress took two batarangs from Nightwing’s hands and strapped them to her belt.

 

_‘Third floor.’_

 

 _‘Perfect.’_ They were on the fifth. The trio sprinted toward the nearest staircase. Two batarang dug into the door once Nightwing threw them, immediately exploding into flame-retardant foam. He kicked the entrance open and— _dammit._

 

Flames slithered through the stair case and covered the floor. He reached into his arsenal and pulled out his grappling gun once again. Superboy stomped at the ground, and the said stairs crumbled. He leaped off the fifth floor and swung into the third. Dispensing the gun, Dick held onto Tigress’s waist and they followed.

 

Three rooms later, they found Impulse and Batgirl fending off four more guard lackies. Nightwing took out the first one he saw while Tigress kneed one lacky into a second one.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Batgirl stand to her feet, Perdita over her back before she side-swept the fourth guard.

 

The young speedster tied up the four croons before they all reassembled.

 

Batgirl coughed, her stance wobbly, before her eyes met with Superboy’s. _‘Princess Audrey is already safe—you need to get Queen Perdita out of here as soon as possible.’_

 

 _‘On it.’_ Superboy nodded firmly and gently scooped the girl up in his arms.

 

 _‘And Wally?’_ Impulse asked. The flame danced in the reflection of his gold goggles. Green eyes stared up to the quartet of adults, desperate.

 

_‘G—‘ **ZIP!** ‘—o.” _

Bart was gone before any of them could get another word out.

 

**xxx**

_00:30_

Thirty seconds. Wally supposed there were more humiliating ways to die—the top three including: death by suffocation and chicken whizees, death by tripping into a volcano, or death by any of the thousand ways on 1000 Ways to Die.  He bared his teeth when the snow hit him again. Never would he have thought that super speed would be his downfall. Not before his first attack, at least. All Wally could think about was how _stupid_ he was for volunteering for this mission. For insisting upon it. For yelling at Dick, never telling Artemis—for putting his relationships with _everyone_ in jeopardy because his pride thought it better that they didn’t know his secret.

 

Wally wanted to spend the last thirty seconds he had making it up to everyone he’d ever known. Especially Perdita— _god._ This mission would have gone _ten times_ more smoothly if he wasn’t there. No one would be distracted by the fact he was there.

 

Too bad that couldn’t happen.

 

_00:29_

 

Even worse—this wasn’t going to be an immediate death. Wally may have not been able to go 1000MPS, but whatever speed he had left was dragging out his death. Wally went from having six months to a little over thirty seconds. A little. That wasn’t enough time to beg for forgiveness from every person he’d ever known.

 

 

 _“Dick_ ,” he muttered quietly in his comm.-link. He brought his good hand (throbbing, _aching, in pain_ arm) to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut beneath his goggles. “I’m _s-so_ sor—”

 

“Heycuzzowhat’supcuzzowowwhatareyourunnin’about400mps?” Out of nowhere, Impulse appeared. The lightning in his steps felt much livelier than Wally’s own—and Wally couldn’t remember the last time he felt as livid as Bart appeared.

 

The sudden appearance of his cousin nearly made Wally trip over. Bart grabbed him by the arm and tugged him forward so he couldn’t.

 

“ _Don’t_ ,” Bart said tersely. Any sign of his act was washed away with that serious look that Wally hated the most. “You slow down, we both go kaboom.”

 

“Get out of here,” Wally snapped. “If you don’t leave, we _are_ going to go _kaboom._ ”

 

“Sorry, but I’m in that rebellious teen stage all _meat_ go through whenever they hit thirteen years.” Bart’s gaze flashed at him, stubborn. “I’mnotgoinganywhere.”

 

The elder speedster choked on his breath.

 

_00:20_

“Barry’s going to lose a nephew, Bee. I’m not letting him lose a grandson too.”

 

“You are _not_ going _anywhere!_ ”

 

“Whoa—”

 

Suddenly Bart’s feet hit the ground harder. He dragged Wally with him and upped the pace as they went north.

 

“What are you _doing_?” Wally cursed loudly. “You _know_ I can’t go fast as you can! As soon as you let go, I slow down, I _die!_ Bee, _get out of here_ before you get caught up in the _explosion!_ ”

 

Wally’d accepted it a long time ago that Bart would be the one to carry on the Flash Family name. Hell—he was already doing it with the _Allen_ name. Bart…honestly would make a better Kid Flash than he would. The kid built a fucking _time machine_ when he was _twelve._

 

His tiny cousin huffed. “Then it looks like we’re trapped together!”

 

“You’re **_impossible_** _!”_

“I’M! NOT! LETTING! YOU! _DIE_!” Bart, _again_ , upped his pace. The stronger nearly swept Wally off his feet—the soles of his boots hit the ground for every tenth step of Bart’s own soles.

 

**_WOOSH!_ **

****

“Don’t slow down!” Wally hissed. Usually it was the other way around—but the shock hit the redhead hard. The timer flickered between _00:20_ and _00:19_ like a red LED strobe light. Vertigo set the pace, but he never told Wally how he could get up to that speed.

 

“Y-You become the Flash, okay?” Bart’s voice registered from up front.

 

His face and entire body was facing forward, but Wally could see the tears as they were caught up by the wind speed.

 

“You outlive your spouse and you get into your sixties and your last mission before you died was trying to save me from Black Beetle in Happy Harbor, and it doesn’tworkbecausesomehowBlackBeetleworkedthesamewaves that Vertigo did—and you died, you d-died a _hero._ But you didn’t _die_ until your _sixties._ ”

 

Wally’s heart throbbed with pain. “Bart…”

 

“You _can’t die._ ” Bart hiccupped. “You—”

 

“Bart, don’t slow down—”

 

” _You can’t._ ” Bart looked over to the elder speedster and sobbed. “I’m just getting to _know_ you.”

 

“I—me too.” Wally choked on his words. _Gods._ “M-me too.” He wouldn’t be around to help Bart through the trauma of the invasion. Or graduation—he wouldn’t be able to get out of school and get his _job_ at STAR Labs, or be there while Dawn and Donny grew up, or—or watch Aunt I and Uncle B have another _kid_. He wouldn’t be able to hold his parents as they grieved the loss of his son.

 

“Oh, _grife.”_ Bart frowned. “I have an idea.”

 

The younger speedster explained his plan.

 

“I can’t let you do that.” Wally frowned.

 

“Do we really have a choice?”

 

“Bart, you could _die._ ”

 

“But you could _live._ ” The brunet furiously shook his head. “I’m in that angst teen rebellion stage, remember? We’re doing it.”

 

“I—” Wally didn’t have a choice. The timer on the bomb read _0:10_ seconds. Beneath his feet, the traction slowly went away. Snow pelted Wally’s face, nearly blinding, and it didn’t take him long to realize they were back in Antarctica. Back to where he failed.

 

The memories stirred in his mind. He shivered—eyes squeezing shut. Antarctica was warm back then. The MFD had been blazing hot, melting the snow that encircled it until it resembled a crater of black ash. Running into the field of scorching heat was like jumping into the sun. Once he got inside, he heard thunder—like the night he’d got his powers, _hissing_ in his ears and shrinking his chances of survival. Tongues of energy pierced through him like a million spears, taking form of crooked, broken lightning that sought to leave him as nothing more than a decaying carcass. That day, he forced himself not to scream in agony.

 

The friction had nearly disappeared beneath his feet. Through crescent-shaped eyes, he made out Barry’s worried look, and Bart’s look of horror. That was when he realized  _he_  was the one getting struck.  _Only_ him.

 

To top that off, what Wally realized was Spasm A (not having enough oxygen coursing through his body to run at his full capacity) threatened to restrain him, with little white specks in his eyes that seduced him into blindness.

_This is it_ , Wally remembered thinking.  _I’m going to die._

No one would have to find out about his illness. Barry wouldn’t know that the _accidentally-on-purpose_ accident rid Wally with defective powers that weren’t as _whole_ was Jay’s or his. Bart could carry on the legacy, and Wally could die in _peace._ Hell, Artemis could do what she loved and he could stop hurting their relationship.

 

At the last moment, Flash shoved him out of the cyclone. Wally skidded forty meters and lost consciousness soon after his body writhed in pain, and he’d sustained a mild concussion and a bruised ego.

 

“We’re doing it.” Wally decided. He tried to match his footing with Bart’s, but it failed. One arm was barely mobile while the other was locked in Bart’s grip. “But if things go sour, _I_ go sacrificial. Not you.”

 

Bart skipped an answer. “Ready?”

 

“Ready—”

 

“Onetwothree _GO!” **WOOSH!**_

****

Before Wally even blink, he felt Bart vibrate the bomb off his wrist and _bullet_ through the icy arctic. Impulse was _gone_ , shooting _over_ what Wally had to assume was two thousand miles a second.

 

Kid Flash sucked in his breath. His good arm still ached, and he could feel it trying to heal. Feet slamming into ice, Wally trudged towards Bart as fast as he could.

 

He may not be fast as Bart, but that didn’t mean Wally was going to risk his baby cousin dying for his sake. Maneuvering his shoulders, Wally’s gaze flew to his dead arm.

 

“Move,” he whispered. “C’mon, move.”

 

It wouldn’t work. Dammit.

 

Whatever. He couldn’t move as fast as he did when he was Bart’s age, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Wally sucked in a breath and ignored the cold. He breathed out white puffs.

 

Calling Bart wouldn’t work—he’d probably be done by the time Wally got the sentence out of his mouth.

 

Before he knew it, Impulse sprinted back in his direction and pulled Wally the opposite way.

 

“Did you—?”

 

**_BOOOOOOM!_ **

 

The younger speedster was going so fast that his speech came out as a willowy jumble. He gripped Wally’s dead arm tightly and yanked him cross the ice. With every step came the chant, _“C’monc’monc’monc’monc’mon—”_

Pain shot up Wally’s leg. Like a dagger in his calf and seven bullets in his feet. Red flashed in his eyes beneath his goggles, and he nearly stumbled. The _burn_ of his own body blazed through his bones like he was running through a screaming fire.

 

It was hard to _breathe._

 

“Come _on_ , cuzzo!” The urgency in Bart’s voice was tangible.

 

“I-Ican’t—” His body was back to hurting, a thousand times worse than Vertigo’s headgear. Wally’s heart felt _still_ , and he was nauseous from head to toe. _God._

Why was this happening _now?_

His body was crying for him to _stop_ , because Kid Flash couldn’t go as fast as Impulse.

Head dipping forward, Wally tried to keep himself from lurching. From the corner of his eye, he saw a yellow blur.

 

Zoom.

 

“Oh my—can you just let us crash the mode for _1.2 seconds_ , you _meatbag?_ ” Bart flashed worried glances in Wally’s direction—but kept running. They couldn’t stop now. Behind them, the sky darkened with into a gray sky, _explosion_ running wild. The impact would kill them on sight.

 

The heat flourished in Wally’s own face, feverish. From the corner of his eye, he could make out Zoom’s smirk—who _mocked_ them at this speed.

 

 _“_ Just so you know—” Zoom sniggered obliquely. “You’re supposed to _die_ here _._ ”

 

“He’s not going to,” Bart snapped.

 

“Oh, but Bartholomew, you must understand that he dies in _every_ timeline.” Zoom scoffed. “You mustn’t waste your time on this _failure._ ”

 

“Don’t tell me what to _do!_ ” Bart let go of Wally’s hand and lunged toward the yellow speedster.

 

“ _AH!”_ The redhead collapsed to the ground. _D-Dammit—_

Zoom was out of Bart’s grasp before the youngest speedster could even take a step forward. He smirked cruelly as the realization set in Bart’s mind that Wally couldn’t move. Then—Zoom drove his fist into Impulse’s jaw.

 

“Ah—” Bart faltered backwards, clutching his bloody face.

 

“Prove your worth to me as a speedster,” Zoom decided, “and escape this bomb.”

 

“That’s not _fair!_ ” Wally screeched. “He’s just a _kid_!”

 

“And he has _ten times_ the potential that you do!” Zoom shouted back. His laugh was _raw._ In an instant, Zoom whirled around and took off through the ice before disappearing.

 

Like—literally disappearing. The residue of Zoom’s speed trailed off in front of them. His footsteps were _a foot_ thick in the snow.

 

Through the pain and the red in the corners of Wally’s eyes, he saw Impulse curled into the fetal position and clutching his own face. Dammit.

Bart was _never_ supposed to get in trouble because of him.

 

The pain in Wally’s body was _unbearable._ He couldn’t move a thing, and choked on the phlegm at the back of his throat. Heat from the incoming explosion suddenly rushed toward them. The glow of it was _terrifying._

 

Wally’s palms dug into the ground. Everything _hurt._ His body felt like lightning _stabbing_ at his flesh and trying to _break free_ from the inside. The grip on ice faltered, and Wally hit his head in the ice.

 

He swallowed back the puke as it trickled into his mouth.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

Get up, get Bart, get the hell out of Antarctica. (The cruel, witty side of him advised Wally to _never_ stay here on vacation.)

 

Standing to his feet _hurt._ His calves felt like they were gushing blood. Wally didn’t have _time_ to care about himself.

 

He…he _ran_ as fast as he could (which had to be about as fast as a snail) and plucked Bart off the ground with his good arm.

 

Part of Bart’s body dragged at the ground, while his head was shoved into Wally’s shoulder.

 

“W-Whatareyoudoing?” Bart whispered. He whimpered, hands shaking.

 

“Saving your life,” Wally responded immediately. Or die trying to. He sucked in a breath and _ran._ It wasn’t fast. Not by definition of two Flash Family speedsters.

 

But Wally didn’t have the time to worry about that, either. He slammed his feet into the ground, electricity spiraling in his throbbing calves as he gained momentum.

 

Heat from the explosion melted the ground at Wally’s feet. He didn’t care.

 

 _Faster_ , he demanded himself. Under his breath, he murmured, “C’mon, Wallman, _don’t screw up_ , don’t—”

 

His feet skidded icy cold water and he kept running. The _burn_ from his spasms were met with ice at the soles of his boots. Wally guessed he was heading towards Europe—p-probably back to Vlatava.

 

Just. _Dammit._ Vertigo _told_ him that the bomb was enough to take out a small country, but what if it was worse?

 

“Bart, can you run?” Wally asked softly.

 

“I-I—” Bart choked on a breath. “I can try—”

 

The impact caught up with them. Bart and Wally went airborne.

****

****

 

 

 

 


	14. Trapeze, Present, Secrets, Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick’s breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the computer screen for what felt like ages, his heart pounding in his chest. Aching. Loading up the holocomp on his glove, he flicked through it until the Arctic was shown so he could get a better view on what just happened. Two bright dots and a violent, swirling amount of heat—then nothing.

 

They couldn’t pick up the comm.-link signals anymore.

 

Dick’s breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the computer screen for what felt like ages, his heart pounding in his chest. Aching. Loading up the holocomp on his glove, he flicked through it until the Arctic was shown so he could get a better view on what just _happened_. Two bright dots and a violent, swirling amount of heat—then nothing.

 

“No,” Superboy murmured from his spot. He paled, hands slacking on his lap.

 

“Kid Flash, Impulse—do you read? This is Batgirl.” Batgirl was the only one who could still move. Her fingers flew over the keyboard in front of her. Immediately the Bioship’s front screen morphed into an aerial view of the Antarctic. It wasn’t amazing—the League still hadn’t built a Zeta Beam tube over there, and Dick was angrily beginning to wonder _why_.

 

One MFD, another explosion. They needed to get _all_ areas of the world accessible towards heroes.

 

Or put a leash on their speedsters, Dick thought with an incoming headache. He couldn’t get his hands to move. Dick was just too—too _stunned._

 

“Kid Flash,” Batgirl repeated, “Impulse—do you read? This is Batgirl.”

 

“You know how unlikely it is that they’re still operable after the explosion,” Dick stated. He was trying to keep his voice even—but he couldn’t even tell if he was _distressed_ or _mad_ or—or both. Regardless, he put away his holocomp and tinkered beside Babs to see if he could find a solution. _Anything_ —

 

The team had split up—Superboy, Batgirl, and he back to the Bioship in order to solve the problem with Wally and Aqualad, Tigress, and Miss Martian in order to guard Perdita and Audrey. The night had gone as _far_ from unplanned as you could get. Dick needed to rearrange his thoughts to salvage what was left of the mission.

 

As far as he knew, Perdita and Audrey were safe and recuperating. Count Vertigo had been reprimanded, and guards had been sent through neighboring towns to explain what happened.

 

Perdita and Audrey would be _safe._

 

 _But what about Wally?_ At some point, Dick’s fingers mashed keys and the screen didn’t make sense to him anymore. His head pounded, and Dick cradled it between his hands to calm himself down.

 

“If the comm.-links are inoperable, especially because of the explosion,” Superboy speculated carefully, “Then…?”

 

“How long would it take to get to Antarctica?” Dick cut him off.

 

“Too long,” Babs replied instantly. “Hours, if we’re lucky.”

 

And by then, _if_ Bart and Wally were still alive, they’d be dead.

 

“We could zeta-beam the Bioship to the nearest tube up north and fly up there,” Superboy suggested.

 

“It’d still be a while before we got up there.” Dick shook his head. “And we’d waste time trying to find the bodies.”

 

He grimaced. _Wasting time_ wasn’t the best way to phrase it.

 

“Then what other possible solution do you have?” Conner’s demeanor twisted into a scowl and he threw his hands in the chair. “We have to do _something._ ”

 

“Keep your cool,” Dick countered. “You knew him being here would jeopardized the mission. You should have told—”

 

“Just like you should have told us about the Artemis stunt you pulled,” Conner snapped back angrily.

 

Every argument and rebuttal Dick had died in his throat. He looked away, gripping the interface tightly beneath his hands.

 

“Look, I’m not defending the guy—but I think we both can agree that neither one of us want him dead.” Conner scrunched his nose and kept talking. “This entire _year_ has been one big headache after another, but we’ve never just _sit here_ and do _nothing._ ”

 

“Stop bickering,” Batgirl interjected. She flashed a look at both of them. “Nightwing, Tigress, and Aqualad are at fault for what happened earlier in the year, but Superboy, you and Impulse are at fault for not telling us about Wally. Throwing blame everywhere helps _no one._ We make mistakes, we get through them, and we try to reassemble ourselves as a _team._ ”

 

Silence.

 

“Do I make myself clear?” Batgirl’s gaze flickered back and forth between her two roommates.

 

“Yes,” Superboy and Nightwing both replied in unison. And they left it at that. Nothing was resolved. Dick knew that from the way Conner frowned at him.

 

But Babs and Conner were right. All they could to was wade it out.

 

“Conner’s right,” Dick said after a long silence. “We can’t just sit here. Let’s—”

 

_“Kon-El, do you read?”_

 

Superboy perked at the mention of his name. He pressed a button immediately on the interface. “Superman! Yes, I read! Are you and the Flash—”

 

 _“We’re done with our mission in Iceland_ ,” Flash answered on cue. _“What’s going on? I’ve been getting messages from the Watchtower saying that you need me.”_

 

Silence.

 

The trio looked at each other, unsure of what to say next.

 

_“Kon-El. Superboy—are you there?”_

 

“Sorry,” Dick interjected. He traveled to Conner’s side and pressed the same button Conner had moments ago. “We’re here. Flash. There was an explosion. Kid Flash and Impulse’s comm.-links are down.”

 

This time, radio silence was on the other end.

 

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Flash responded. _“Where?_ ”

**xxx**

 

“Bart?”

 

Wally couldn’t hear himself over the ringing in his ears. He saw red in the corners of his vision—saw it soaking the yellow lycra of his charred uniform, felt it oozing out of his ears, felt it spilling out of him into bleak white snow and mixing with it like a dam in Wally had been broken on the inside. It was fleeing because he was no longer _useful._

 

He sobbed and realized that one of the lenses on his goggles had completely shattered, while the other cracked. It hurt just to move his face—which chipped away as snow beat down on him.

 

 _Move_ , he shouted in his head. Please. _For Bart._

 

The explosion was over. Beads of sweat that were hot on his skin were now pale sheets of ice. The longer he stayed, the closer he felt to a corpse.

 

And his head hurt. Wally’s head pounded, like Zoom was using his head like a treadmill and slamming it into the ground each time his ugly yellow boot made contact with Wally’s skull.  

 

“I am so sorry,” Wally croaked. He bit back tears—Wally couldn’t hear himself, but the vibration of his own voice burned in his throat.

 

All around him was white—cold, disgusting, and bleak. When he closed his eyes, it wasn’t any better. Even his _eyes_ were sore—and throbbing. And red.

 

So much red.

 

“…lly—hey. Hey. Hang in there. Please—pleasehanginthereKidWally—”

 

“Uncle Barry…?” Wally opened his eyes as fast as he could—which wasn’t fast. It was slow—even by a normal human’s standard. He saw _red_ again—but a good red. Flash Red.

 

Flash’s face stared back at him, demeanor twisted with worry beneath his cowl. His mouth fell open, and the tiny strained sound that came out of his mouth silenced the buzzing in Wally’s head. Then Uncle Barry’s demeanor tightened in a way Wally hadn’t seen since he was a stupid thirteen-year-old kid who set up a chemistry experiment in his garage. Fear. Worry. Incoming panic that not even a cowl could hide.

 

“Bart,” Wally murmured next, and his head lulled to the side.

 

“S’okay,” Barry said, his voice cracking.

 

Wally wondered who looked worse off—him or Bart. And _hoped_ it was him.

 

“He’s safe,” Barry continued. He turned his head elsewhere, but Wally’s neck hurt too much to turn with Barry. “Superman—how’s he look?”

 

There was a muffled sound, but judging from the way Flash’s chest heaved, Wally assumed Bart was going to be okay.

 

 _This never should’ve happened_ , said a voice in the back of his head. It never should’ve gotten to this point.

 

Bart’s life never should’ve been on the line. Bart _never_ should have gotten hurt because of how _stupid_ Wally was.

 

“I never should have gone on this mission,” Wally muttered angrily. He coughed, his chest tight. Ribs pulsed beneath his skin, _burning_ , and all Wally saw was red again.

 

“Hey—hey. It’s not your fault,” Flash murmured softly, like he was thirteen again.

 

And Wally could have laughed. He’d gotten chewed out by his team, by _Dick_ —but Flash still didn’t know what was going on. Wally’d put his favorite uncle—his _hero’s_ —twelve-year-old grandson on the line, and Flash was here consoling him.

 

Barry didn’t even know the truth. And once he found out, he was going to _kill_ Wally. If the speed didn’t kill him first.

 

The latter thought only got worse when Flash picked him up. Wally’s breath caught in his throat ( _burned_ ) as his legs fell limp under Barry’s grip. He tried to look—but the way Flash cradled his head made it hard to see his own feet.

 

“Easy there,” Flash said. It was surprisingly soothing. “We’re running gonna run back to Vlatava and take a zeta beam up to the Watchtower. The medical ward will take a look at you from there.”

 

“Not a hospital, huh?” Wally mused. “Must be serious.”

 

Flash didn’t respond to that. He cradled Wally more comfortably. The gust picked up, and Wally shivered against it. Flash’s body pulsed with electricity, pounding steadily against Wally’s ear as he ran.

 

Eventually, he spoke again. “We’ll get ahold of STAR Labs when we get up there, too.”

 

Oh.

 

Since he was with the _Fastest Man Alive_ , the trip was short. But each step Barry took had Wally desperately wishing he was still sprawled over his own blood in the Artic. Flash didn’t yell at him like the team did. Barry was never like that—it’d taken a week for Barry to _look_ at him again after the accident. And after that, Flash kept Kid Flash at arm’s length at all times.

 

Which was a feat in itself—because when you were running, you used your own two feet. Not anyone else’s.

 

Wally could only assume that Uncle Barry was trying to get his thoughts sorted. If Barry knew about what the powers were _doing_ to Wally, then he knew that Wally’d been keeping it a secret for three years, too.

 

The familiar hues of blues and purples and reds caught Wally’s sight. Again, a _good_ red. He heard his name being called, and saw blurry silhouettes of his friends as they ran towards him.

 

(If they still wanted to be his friends.)

 

“Bart,” Wally breathed when he finally saw his baby cousin.

 

Superman had put Bart on a stretcher. Impulse’s goggles, much like Wally’s, had shattered. Bart’s nose was twisted at an ugly angle, left eye swollen, and blood crusting on the side of his face. He was _unconscious_ , which scared Wally the most. Impulse’s boots were mostly charred, with burn marks climbing up the lycra of his uniform. His shoulder, too, jutted in an ugly angle that made the hairs on Wally’s arms bristle.

 

“Bart,” Wally repeated. He found himself in a neck brace not two seconds later, as Flash sped around the Bioship for medical supplies. His goggles were taken off his face, cowl ripped off his head so Wally could see everything a little clearer, and an IV was suddenly through his arm. Wally tried to push himself up—but realized he couldn’t even move his arm. A choked cry left his mouth and he quickly fiddled with the other arm—thankful to find that it still worked.

 

Nightwing pushed him down. “If you think he’s in bad shape, you should see yourself.”

 

Forcing himself to keep his eyes open, Wally’s gaze dully landed on his teammate. His heart tore in two when he saw the look of concentration on Dick’s face beneath that mask. He couldn’t tell if Dick was relieved to see him, or if Dick wanted to _kill_ him.

 

Wally tried to talk, but he could barely get his mind to work.

 

His best friend stared at him for a deft moment, then discarded his current gloves for a pair of sterile ones. Nightwing placed an oxygen mask over Wally’s mouth.

 

They used to be _okay_ , Wally thought. His eyes drooped, a painful cough slithering out of the back of his throat. Never, in all the time that they knew each other, did Wally ever think their friendship would diminish to this.

 

Maybe Dick was right.

 

Maybe Wally should’ve told everyone what happened, _when_ it happened.

 

“How are they?” Nightwing asked.

 

“Three broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, fractured nose, bruised left eye, and large contusion above the right eye,” Superman informed as he inspected Bart. “I think that one of his ribs tore into some lung tissue. We need to hurry to the Watchtower.”

 

“And Wally?” Flash stopped a moment later, and without a care, pulled his own cowl out of his face. Wally could have cried at the way his _uncle_ looked at him.

 

Superman turned his head, and—

 

Bart’s whimper caught everyone’s attention. Out of nowhere, he started thrashing on his stretcher. He pounded his fists into the bedding, sobs coming from the back of his throat, and immediately Wally forced himself up.

 

“Bart!” Barry shouted, and he sped to his grandson’s side.

 

“ _Bart_ —agh—” Wally’s eyes wetted with tears, the pain in his chest throbbing like a thousand knives impaling his bones. He coughed, hand reaching to rip the oxygen mask away from his face—and Nightwing stopped him. “No—nononoletgohe’sinpain—”

 

“ _So are you_ ,” Nightwing snapped back. “Superman, what’s going on?”

 

“Impulse’s body is trying to heal on its own,” Superman reported, voice urgent. He pressed a hand to Bart, and the speedster only cried out in pain. “If we don’t operate on him soon, his ribs are going to reassemble _through_ his lung tissue.”

 

“Leggo’fhim!” Wally shouted. He writhed against Nightwing, trying to shake his best friend’s grip _off_ and _failing._ “Stopityou’rehurtinghim!”

 

“Wally! Wally, you’ve lost a lot of blood, you need to calm down!” Nightwing forced him down, and Wally hissed in pain.

 

“Sedatives?” Batgirl asked. She ran towards them,  a flashlight in hand.

 

“Hyper-accelerated metabolism. Both of them,” Barry pointed out. His voice cracked. “It’ll leave their systems before having any effect.”

           

“ _Leggo_ ,” Wally pleaded, and he smashed heads with Dick. It _hurt_ , like the rest of him, but he didn’t _care._ “I need— _Bart_ —”

 

Again, Bart cried out and Batgirl did quick work that Wally couldn’t see.

 

“Conner! ETA on the zeta-beam tube?” Nightwing shouted. He wasn’t even _facing_ Wally anymore, and that made Wally angry. How _dare_ they try to separate Bart and him? They had no idea what Bart and he had _been_ through.

 

“Twenty seconds—it’s in view. Aqualad and the others are meeting us there.”

 

“Let me see him!” Wally demanded. He tried once more to lunge off his stretcher—but both Flash and Nightwing kept him pinned. Wally growled as the oxygen mask was put back on his face, and he howled in pain when Flash unintentionally grazed his shoulder.

 

“Wally! Wally— _Kid_ , you have _got to calm down!”_

 

“No! I need to see him—Ineedto!” Wally thrashed, but it was no use. His body felt used and worn and disgusting, and he was ready to _die._ Wally didn’t care anymore, so long as Bart was _okay._

 

The landing was a blur. Dick and Barry kept him restrained, and Wally’s heart ripped in two every time he heard Bart cry in pain. A hatch opened up as they landed, and the stretchers were wheeled out of the Bioship.

 

“What’s going on?” he barely heard Aqualad say. There was a gasp, and Wally saw an array of blond hair elsewhere.

 

“They both need medical attention ASAP,” Nightwing informed. “Batgirl, set coordinates to the Watchtower.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

” _LET GO OF ME_!” Wally shouted, and he regretted it. His throat blazed, body ached, vision blurred, and ears pounded. He saw Barry wheel Bart’s stretcher away, and the panic set in. “ _WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HIM? LET GO—LET ME_ —”

 

“Sedative?” someone asked.

 

“No—it’ll bleed through his system before it has time to work.” Artemis held him by the crown of his head, the worry wrinkling her brow. “Dammit, Wally—sit still—”

 

“Here—leave him to me.” M’gann slowly took Artemis’s place. Her amber eyes stared down at him, expression stern and fully of worry, and she rubbed soothing circles into Wally’s temples.

 

“Let me…go…” A wave of calmness hit Wally, and his next breath caught in his throat. He flattened against the bed, and M’gann held onto him firmly.

 

Someone grabbed onto his good hand as the calmness flourished over Wally’s thoughts. His eyelids felt heavy, and although his heart was pounding, it felt better with M’gann’s touch against him.

 

“That’s it, Wally,” Dick murmured softly. “Breathe. Everything will be fine. Breathe…”

 

He let out a tired breath and let himself slowly succumb to darkness.

 

_Breathe…_

 

**xxx**

 

_“Stance tall, feet flat, grip tight.” Wally grinned cockily, his hand planted firmly on Robin’s back. “And most importantly, don’t forget to breathe.”_

 

_Robin snorted. “Since when are you an expert at the trapeze?”_

 

_“Since last night, when I looked it up on the internet.” Wally wiggled his eyebrows. He sped to the other side of his best friend, knelt down, and fixed Robin’s hips with his hands. The platform was narrow—Wally knew it wasn’t meant for two people. So when he crouched as close as he did to Robin, he wasn’t surprised to get a knee to the face. “Ow! Hey!”_

 

_“You next to my junk is the last thing I want, Kid Doofus.”_

 

_“Do you want my expertise or do you want to fail?”_

 

_“I want your face as **far away** from my crotch as possible.” _

 

_“Hey, whoa—” With another nudge from an irate Boy Wonder, Wally nearly fell. He squeaked, the back of his feet shaking at the end of the platform. Robin yanked him by the front of his shirt, and they flanked together. Distressed, Wally flung his arms around Robin’s legs with no intention of letting go. “Don’t do that!”_

 

_“Hahaha!” As annoyed as Robin looked before, it didn’t seem to matter now. It was the first laugh Wally’d heard out of his best friend’s mouth since before finding out Haly could be in trouble._

 

_Who knew Wally’d miss it so much._

 

_“Dude. The Bioship has been off the **ground** higher than this.” Robin proceeded to point to the netting beneath the trapeze. “ **Without** a safety net.”_

 

_“Hey, I’m a runner. My feet have a longstanding marital agreement with the ground,” Wally retorted. He wiggled his toes for emphasis, which only made their Boy Wonder cackle again. Rolling his eyes, Wally inspected the setup himself. “This is like the love child of the monkey bars and a swing set.”_

 

_“Nice to know that you’re comparing my backstory to playground stuff.”_

 

_“Please. When it comes to **you**? You make everything look like playground stuff.” _

 

_Robin hummed, his eyebrows raised beneath the white and red domino mask. Wally assumed the quip was taken as a compliment rather than an insult._

 

_The trapeze itself wasn’t a big one. Wally’d been to the circus before—he knew those were colossal in comparison to the one set up in the small bunker beneath Mount Olympus. Still—it didn’t make this one any less intimidating. They were best friends **now** —who ragged on each other for everything—but Robin had way bigger balls than Wally did and made Wally’s inner fanboy tingle with glee. _

 

_(Ergh. Scratch that whole metaphor—Wally wasn’t partial to comparing ball sizes with his best friend. Or anyone. He didn’t want to see what Superboy was packing away, either. Gross.)_

 

_“So you go on an unauthorized mission on the other side of the world, get caught by the Caped Crusader himself—and he rewards you by building a trapeze beneath the base?” Wally asked. He slowly unwound himself from Robin’s legs._

 

_They weren’t doing any actual trapeze work. The team was unwinding from going against Parasite—which Wally was both empathetic and envious of._

 

_(On one hand—cool, a sick villain who could absorb other people’s abilities. On the other hand: best friend goes on a throwback mission, leaves him in Happy Harbor and gets inside Robin’s head big time. Unfair and not cool.)_

 

_Artemis and Roy alternated between getting along and bickering (but apparently it was the good kind of bickering), while M’gann and Supey seemed stronger than ever. It chewed Wally up on the inside. He wished he was there._

 

_Even the part of him that was happy Roy was on the team was bitter. After all—Roy’d thrown the hat on the ground and left. Then he came back and went on a mission that Wally was **more than** suited for. _

 

_Robin shifted subtly on the platform. He shrugged, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “Christmas present.”_

 

_Wally inspected the ground to make sure no one was waiting on them. Zee and Artemis were discussing who-knows-what on a bench, while Kaldur and Roy did the same on the other side of the room. M’gann and Conner were making googly eyes at each other—so lost in thought that Miss M was literally floating off the ground._

 

_“Well he’s pretty cool for letting you off the hook,” Wally said. “Since it hits close to home and everything.”_

 

_Again, Robin snorted. “As if. I’m on the hook more than ever now. Batman’s got me doing twice the training for the next two months as punishment for going on an unauthorized mission.”_

 

_“Worth it?”_

 

_“Do you even have to ask?” Robin tried to sound tough, but his voice softened. The edge of his lips curled into a smile, and his blue eyes shined beautifully under the white mask. It didn’t take the World’s Greatest Detective to know Robin was happy._

 

_It made Wally smile a little too._

 

_He cleared his throat and weakly tapped Robin’s shin. “You better take me with you next time you go on a life-altering mission.”_

 

_“That wasn’t a life-altering—”_

 

_“Seriously. You’re my best bud.” Wally turned to Robin thoughtfully. He fidgeted with his t-shirt and awkwardly shrugged. “And I’ve got your back. Always.”_

 

_Robin stared at him for a moment. Without the dumb shades or the usual uniform mask, Wally knew Rob’s demeanor was, You Are So Stupid or I’m Gonna Barf. Instead Robin laughed, more gently this time. He held a hand out. “Appreciate it.”_

 

_“Duh.” Grinning with relief, Wally took the hand and stood up. “It is **me** you’re talking to, after all.” _

 

_“So—” Robin turned to the chalk bowl beside him and proceeded to coat his hands. He clapped them together and smiled up to the speedster. “You ready to do this?”_

 

_Wally’s smile faded into panic. He blinked wildly and scratched his head. “Um—this? Like, trapeze work?”_

 

_“You climbed the ladder to get up here, didn’t you?” Mischief twinkled in Robin’s eyes. He took Wally by the hands and helped coat them with chalk, too. After that, he turned his head away, which only made Wally’s heart hammer with panic. “M’gann! You ready?”_

 

_M’gann tore away from her conversation with Conner. She grinned up to them and flew to the platform on the other end of the trapeze. “Ready Freddy!”_

 

_Wally gulped. “Um—I don’t—”_

 

_With one flick of the wrist, M’gann maneuvered the bar towards them._

 

_“Hey—if a wily Martian can tour across Europe and do it, I think a speedster can pick it up just fine.” Dick caught the bar and guided Wally’s fingers over it. “Monkey bar and swing set. Right?”_

 

_“But—”_

 

_“Hey.” Robin planted a hand firmly on Wally’s back. He chuckled softly under his breath, completely calm per usual. This time, it didn’t feel like it was because of countless hours of training with Batman. Robin’s chuckle was pure, unadulterated Dick Grayson. “You’re my best bud too. I’m not gonna let you fall.”_

 

_“You two ready?” M’gann called from the other end. She seemed excited._

 

_Not only that, but the three of them now had the eyes of everyone else in the bunker. Great._

 

_“I’m gonna kill you if I die from this.” Wally glared at his best friend, but knew he couldn’t keep it up._

 

_Robin hummed and shrugged contently._

 

_“Ready, Gorgeous!” Wally’s voice cracked as he looked back to M’gann. She grinned at him beautifully—and he decided that his friends better be lucky that they were attractive people. Wally had a hard time saying no to attractive people._

 

_“Ready!” M’gann shouted back._

 

_“On the count the count of three, okay?” Dick said in a low voice. He kept a hand firmly planted on Wally’s back—which calmed the latter down a little. “One…”_

 

_Wally gulped._

 

_“Two…”_

 

_“Wait—on three, or after th—”_

 

_“Hup!” With all the freaking force in the world, Robin shoved him._

 

_“Oh my god—” Which was how Wally went falling. Falling—seriously, falling, oh god—_

 

_“Heads up!” Supey shouted from below. Out of nowhere, he tossed a barrel upwards beneath Wally. The speedster forced himself to change his center of gravity. He pushed his feet on the barrel like it was a trampoline and—yelped, because he was still falling. Falling—_

 

_“I am so killing you for this!” Wally shouted shakily._

 

_“Arms out, West!” Roy shouted from the sidelines._

 

_In hysterics, Wally did what he was told. He felt a sharp tug as M’gann’s telekinesis pulled at his body—and she grabbed him by the wrists._

 

_‘Gotcha!’ she shouted triumphantly in their heads._

 

_What happened after that was practically a blur. Dick was right about one thing—they’d faced superbaddies of all sorts, so it made no sense that this freaked him out—but it did. There was an adrenaline to it that made Wally’s blood rush in ways that running never could. He could barely do this in front of his friends, let alone for an audience._

 

_Wally nearly peed himself when they landed on the other platform. “Oh sweet platform—sweet, sweet ground!”_

 

_“Was that so bad?” M’gann giggled softly and rubbed circles in his back._

 

_“Yes,” Wally replied instantly as he thought of several ways to get back at Rob later._

 

_Who was hugging his ribcage and laughing so hard that he looked like he was going to topple over from hysterics._

 

_“Dude!” Wally seethed. He wasn’t even sure why he was shouting—but freaking out at Rob was definitely an instinct by now._

 

_Blue eyes flashed at Wally with glee, lips stretched from flushed cheek-to-flushed cheek. Robin’s shoulders tremble with the rest of his body from laughed, and he grinned up at Wally._

 

_“Like we’d let you fall,” Dick said between laughter. He looked up to Wally, and the speedster’s heart skipped a beat. “You idiot.”_

 

_“You’re a freak,” Wally breathed back. He stared at Robin like their youngest teammate had grown a second head._

 

_“He’s right, you know,” Supey said smugly from below. Obviously he was satisfied with nearly impaling Wally with a barrel. “We’d never let you fall.”_

 

_“Then you’re all weird!” Wally threw his hands up in the air and huffed. “I hate all of you!”_

 

_At first, Miss M made a sound of protest, clearly taking offense to that. When she realized the comment was mostly directed towards Robin, she laughed. Wally did too, once he gathered his bearings._

 

_“Admit it!” Robin shouted back, still grinning. “You had fun.”_

 

_“Did not!” Wally frowned, but it quickly morphed into a smile instead. He tried to be angry—and knew he couldn’t._

 

**xxx**

 

“You idiot,” Dick murmured under his breath. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

 

Flash was pacing back and forth in the narrow length of the waiting room, his feet quietly padding the floor. He stopped occasionally to stare at the door, or to rush up to it—then he went back to pacing.

 

Conner sat beside Dick. He wasn’t as fidgety as Barry was—but from the way he was tapping a hand to his arm for the last three hours, Dick knew Conner wanted to blow off some steam.

 

Not many people were around. The Watchtower had grown in the past few years and expanded its Medical Bay—but it was only used as a last resort when an injury was beyond what a normal hospital could do.

 

Like super speed.

 

Dick’s jaw tightened. Batgirl had returned to Vlatava with Kaldur, M’gann, and Artemis. His heart ached when Artemis saw Wally for the first time—in hysterics, blubbering and violent, with nothing functioning but his left arm. Dick didn’t think Wally even realized how injured he was.

 

There’d been a large bump on Wally’s forehead, followed by another series of bruises down the side of his face. One of Wally’s eyes was swollen shut from the input, blood oozing out of his ear. Wally’d tried to speak, but it all came out in a series of broken sounds—most of them asking for Bart.

 

Bart wasn’t as bad as Wally—but lying there, so close to death, just…brought too many flashbacks of Jason’s death.

 

Wiping his face, Dick pushed the images out of his head. He didn’t want to go to _that place_ again. It’d taken a lot for Dick to accept Tim after Jason’s death. Not because Dick _hated_ Tim.

 

He loved Tim _so much_ that he was afraid what would happen one night if Timmy went on patrol and never came back.

 

 _No one_ deserved a fate like that.

 

And Dick didn’t like the fact that he might be facing that right now, with his best friend. _And_ his best friend’s Tim.

 

He could only imagine what Flash was going through.

 

“Barry?” Dick asked a moment later. “How’re you holding up?”

 

His voice felt raw. It’d been four hours since they rushed to the Watchtower with no news. Batman trained him various types of situations—but surgery wasn’t one of them. Not like this. He felt like he was standing on the line between teendom and adulthood—young enough that Flash could still ruffle his hair at first greeting, and old enough that he _should’ve known what he was doing._

 

Barry stopped running, and it felt like he took the room with him. Silence.

 

Dick knew that he couldn’t ask, ‘ _Are you okay?’_ He spent years asking Batman that—and no matter how stern Bruce’s poker face, his eyes always gave it away. Barry had a lot of similarities in that manner. He wore his heart on his sleeve—but to the core, Barry was a good man with a calm demeanor. It wasn’t just his _eyes_ that gave it away. Barry’s hands shook beside him, body fidgeting with super speed.

 

Conner softened, too. He leaned forward, his hands furled together in front of him. “I should’ve told you.”

 

Flash’s head fidgeted. He shook it slowly, stance still tight where he was. “No—”

 

His voice was gruff from hours of disuse, deep and thick. He stopped short in speaking, like he would if he were coming to a halt from running. Barry curled his hands at his sides and plopped onto the bench behind him.

 

Throwing a look in Conner’s direction, Dick and he got up to soothe the older hero.

 

“They’re a lot alike, you know.” Flash sat up against the bench and fiddled with his gloves. He sounded worn down and tired—and in all the years Dick knew Barry, he’d never seen Barry like this. “Wally likes food. Bart likes food. They eat their way through the fridge in like two days.”

 

Dick squeezed Barry’s shoulder soothingly.

 

“Wally always wanted to be a hero,” Barry murmured softly under his breath. “He begged me, not even a _week_ after being in the hospital. And Bart is fearless. He...came all the way back here as a hero so that everyone else could have a _choice_. They’re my _boys._ ”

 

He slumped against the seat.

 

“And I can’t help them. I couldn’t help when Bart was almost killed by Zoom, when Zoom got the twins—” Flash sucked in a breath and made a lack gesture towards Conner. “I wouldn’t have even _known_ Zoom took the twins if you didn’t tell me, Superboy.”

 

Again, Conner and Dick looked at each other.

 

“Am I really cut out for _this_?” Flash rubbed his temples and sucked in a breath. “Wally used to tell me _everything_ that was bothering him before his parents. Before his _aunt._ And I didn’t know he was in _pain._ He’s like a _son_ to me and I didn’t know he was in _pain._ I wasn’t there to protect them from Zoom. How can I be a good father when I’m not even a good uncle? Or a granddad?”

 

Barry exhaled, which sounded nothing short of a sob.

 

“How can I be a good Flash when I’m no good at anything else?” he muttered under his breath. He shrugged Dick’s hand away from his shoulder. “I’m a _terrible_ mentor. Who knows how _good_ I am at being a dad, too.”

 

“Barry,” Dick chided softly under his breath. “You are literally _everything_ that a good mentor could be. Bart, Wally, and the twins are _lucky_ to have you.”

 

Like a meager child, Barry shook his head. Dick had never seen a grown man look so distraught. Flash was the polar opposite of either of his kin—Wally’d lashed out angrily and Bart kept to himself.

 

He could only wonder how the League acted when Barry was down—but Superman had returned to League, just like Team Alpha did with the mission. Life went on whether or not Wally and Bart would be okay in that room or if the Flash didn’t want to be the Flash anymore.

 

“What happened in there wasn’t your fault. For whatever reason, Wally wanted to keep it a secret and Bart did too.” Conner crossed his arms. “Once STAR Labs arrives, we can get a better reading on the situation.”

 

 _For whatever reason_. Dick bit the inside of his mouth and curled his hands into fists. He knew the gesture didn’t go unseen by Conner. Dick had every intention of taking responsibility for the mission if it failed—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t _angry_ with Wally for _compromising it_ in the first place.

 

And compromising their friendship with it.

 

This as more than an _engagement_ ring. Dick could forget that.

 

His best friend might not even live long enough to _get_ married. Wally would rather _die_ than let anyone know how low he was. And that was _not_ okay.

 

They— _Dick and he_ —were _not_ okay.

 

Without warning, Barry’s hands fell. He stood up and touched both boys by the shoulder. “Guess I can’t put it off any longer. The family needs to know what happened.”

 

“Will the League allow them up here?” Conner frowned.

 

“The Medical Bay, yes. Any other place will be off limits. Once they see Bart and Wally, I don’t think they’ll want to leave their sides.” Barry’s eyebrows furrowed together beneath his cowl. He stood straighter, squeezing both their shoulders firmly. “They’re lucky to have friends like you two.”

 

_ZIP_

 

And he was gone.

 

The pair stood in an awkward silence, neither moving. Dick stared at Conner carefully, and Conner stared back, lips set in a firm line.

 

“Some friends we are,” Conner muttered. “Ready to strangle Wally with one hand and hoping he lives in the other.”

 

Dick agreed whole-heartedly.

 

**xxx**

 

_“Do Atlanteans celebrate Christmas?” Wally mused. He flopped onto his stomach on the couch and shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. Immediately, a spoon from the kitchen flew over and smacked him upside the head. “Ow!”_

 

_“Wally!” M’gann chided. “That’s for the Christmas tree!”_

 

_“Christmas was two days ago!” Wally retorted. He rubbed his aching head, but could only laugh. Before he could get another spoon to the face, he continued stringing popcorn—while sneaking a few bits of popcorn, of course._

 

_“It’s our first Christmas together as a team!” M’gann shot back. “And everyone was busy on the real Christmas, so we’re celebrating now!”_

 

_On cue, Wally made smarmy eyebrows at his favorite Supey. Everyone had gone home for the holidays—and as a tradition sans three years ago, Flash and he ran around to orphanages near Central City to read to little kids._

 

_(Wally once made a jab at Flash by saying he was a big man in a red suit who could cross the world in one night, and Barry stuck with it. It was both the best and worst decision of his life.)_

 

_He’d asked if Supey wanted to spend the holidays with him, but M’gann and Superboy were apparently eager to have the cave to themselves on Christmas._

 

_And now, they were only a few gingerbread men away from holiday hell._

 

_(That was totally a lie. Wally’d streak across Happy Harbor if M’gann asked him to. This was nothing in comparison.)_

 

_Supey ignored Wally’s happy brows in favor of watching No Signal. Figures._

 

_“We celebrate on the eve of the Winter Solstice and drink to our heart’s content,” Kaldur explained from his place on the La-Z-Boy. He seemed perfectly content with the clumsily knit scarf Artemis had given him. (Archer? Yes. Seamstress? No.) “Then we feast for an entire week and indulge on several types of foods. Whoever devours the most is then cooked to a crisp and is eaten by all of Atlantis on the eve of the New Year.”_

 

_Silence._

 

_Wally dropped popcorn from his hands and stared at Kaldur, mouth ajar._

 

_M’gann stopped working, and even Supey turned away from the TV, eyebrow raised._

 

_A tiny smile curled against Kaldur’s lips._

 

_“And that,” Robin announced as he appeared from behind the couch, “is what we call Atlantean sarcasm.”_

 

_Yelping, Wally fell off the couch. “Dude!”_

 

_“Fastest Teen Alive? Yes. But does he ever see **anything** coming?” Robin threw his head back and cackled. “No.” _

 

_“You’re a freak of nature on your own.” Wally grabbed a fistful of popcorn and threw it at Robin. “You don’t count.”_

 

_“Hahaha!” Robin grinned. He dodged the popcorn, cause it to fly towards Supey and Kaldur instead. Both who rolled their eyes and glared at Wally from a distance. And of course, while Wally was pointing fingers at his best friend, said best friend flipped over the couch, grabbed a handful of popcorn, and shoved it down the back of Wally’s hoodie._

 

_“Dude!”_

 

_“Wally!” M’gann tutted from the kitchen. She plucked every piece of popcorn via telekinesis and extracted the bowl back to the counter. “No more popcorn for you!”_

 

_“But—” Wally sputtered. He guffawed at his best friend while trying digging for popcorn behind him. “But—he—Rob’s the one who—”_

 

_M’gann shot a piece of popcorn gently at their resident Boy Wonder’s head. “You too, Robin! Why don’t you help Zatanna and Artemis put up the decorations?”_

 

_Wally shot a glare in Robin’s direction, but he knew it was no use. Knowing Rob, this was just some master plan to embarrass him later. But—he didn’t want to know what Miss Beautiful was like when she was pissed off and didn’t want to get on Conner’s bad side, so he obliged._

 

_“You are **such** a pain in the ass,” he declared as they walked down the hall. The Christmas tree was placed in the den next to the TV—but when it came to the holidays and Miss M, it was go big or go home. _

 

_Robin shrugged. “You were pissing Miss M off anyway.”_

 

_“It was part of my master plan to win her back.”_

 

_“Hahaha. You really think you could compete with Superboy?”_

 

_“I could. If I had a Kryptonian six pack.” Wally made a face and lifted his shirt. He loved his body, but he’d probably love it more if it were bulletproof. “Why do we have to help out the other girls, anyway? Artemis keeps looking at me like she wants to rip my head off.”_

 

_“Probably because the last time you two went on a mission together, you yelled at her and called her insecure.” Robin kept his voice light, but it was clear by his words that he wasn’t on Wally’s side._

 

_Turning to his best friend, Wally scoffed. “She led Kaldur and me on a wild goose chase because she was insecure about Speed—Red Arrow. That’s not my fault.”_

 

_“She has her reasons,” Robin shot back. “Trust me. I know.”_

 

_Wally wrinkled his nose. It was one thing to get into an argument with Arty of all people, but he didn’t like it when his best friend didn’t take his side._

 

_Roy had used them as a stepping stone, too. He was only around for a few days, and was soon to be inducted into the League. There was no way Wally was gonna go up to Arty and apologize for being wrong. Hell would have to freeze over first._

 

_“And you expect me to be all gung-ho about it? It’s different if **you** lie, bro—you and I go way back. I know I can trust you.” Wally rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “But she’s just—some girl—”_

 

_“Dude,” Robin said. “Seriously not cool.”_

 

_The redhead stopped short of whatever else he was going to say. His shoulders came to his ears, and he wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, well, neither was lying to me.”_

 

_“You don’t have secrets to keep.” Robin nudged him in the shoulder. “It’s different.”_

 

_Knowing he was going to lose this argument, Wally just shrugged. He still frowned, hurt that his best friend would choose a girl they’d both known four months versus their three-year long friendship, but let it go._

 

_“Pluuus everyone in the cave knows you like her. Underneath all of that butthurt I know you don’t mean a word you say.”_

 

_“What—I—what the hell?” Wally’s face flushed as red as his hair and he shot a look at a smug Robin. “Well what about you and Zatanna?”_

 

_Robin’s lips stretched from cheek-to-cheek. His cheeks glowed, and he waved his hand dismissively. “We get each other.”_

 

_“You get each oth—?”_

 

_“Yeah. So don’t be so **chalant** about it.” _

 

_Wally wrinkled his nose. He deflated, and crossed his arms. “I hate you.”_

 

_Again, Robin grinned. Wally would’ve said his best friend had the face of an angel if Rob weren’t so twisted. They stopped before reaching Zatanna’s room, and Wally made a face._

 

_“Wait here, okay?” he said._

 

_“O—” ZIP! “—kay?”_

 

_Sprinting to the souvenir room, Wally took the carefully wrapped box out of its hiding spot—the ice chamber for Queen Perdita’s new heart—and rushed back to the scene. He flashed a lopsided grin in Robin’s direction. “Merry Xmas, bro.”_

 

_“A gift.” Robin stared at the box, confused. “For me?”_

 

_“Don’t think much on it.” He waved his hand dismissively and extended his hands. The box was a fairly decent size—as big as one of Wally’s shoeboxes, at least. And he had big feet. “I love you, you’re great—blah blah blah. Sentimental stuff.”_

 

_“Even if I’m ‘a freak’?” The younger teen mused._

 

_“Now how could I insult my friend with petty words?” Wally snorted. “Especially considering everything I say goes in one big ear and out the other?”_

 

_Robin arched an eyebrow, and Wally just rolled his eyes._

 

_“Just—open it.”_

 

_“Okay, but you know that Bats is loaded. We’re talking about a guy who…”_

 

_The gift wasn’t much bigger than the box—a two-figured wooden sculpture of—_

 

_“This is me. On a robin.” Robin sounded appalled and worried at the same time—and flattered. The grimace on his face overshadowed the other reactions. Not that Wally could blame him. You apparently had to be trained by the World’s Greatest Detective to realize what it was._

 

_“You saw that, then? Because my woodshop teacher thought I made a stick figure over a chicken nugget.” Wally zipped to his best friend’s other side. “Like—here’s the cape, and here’s the mask. I even painted the bird the right colors and everything and he gave me a C-Minus.”_

 

_“So you decided to give me your below-average woodshop project for Christmas instead of putting it in your collection of knickknacks at home,” Robin mused. “I’m touched.”_

 

_“Hey—you’re a hard person to shop for.” Wally nudged his best friend and rolled his eyes. He sucked the inside of his mouth and shrugged. “One shitty sculpture from me is something you can’t find on the market. You can’t put a price on it—just like our friendship.”_

 

_The grimace over Robin’s lips waned. He stared at the gift thoughtfully, and Wally shrugged._

 

_“So,” Wally elbowed him in the arm. “Mister Ward of You Know Who. Did you get me anything?”_

 

_Robin snorted. He dug into the front pocket of his jacket and fished out a box no bigger than his hands. (How Robin fit it in there? Who knew—Wally stopped asking questions after seeing Robin pull out a utility belt one too many times.) “Feel free to take your—”_

 

_Wally snatched the gift and ripped the wrapping paper in seconds. He blinked when he saw it. “Snowboard Kids?”_

 

_The game was beat up and stained yellow—but it looked like whomever had it last tried to clean it up as well as they could. Wally could still see a faded image of Slash, winking smugly in a way that made him think of Dick._

 

_“Our friendship’s worth twenty-six bucks,” Robin continued. He laughed to himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Found a copy on eBay. You said when your aunt and uncle started dating—”_

 

_“Uncle Barry won me over by letting me play his old school game console,” Wally finished for him. He stared at the game—forward and backwards. “They lost it when they moved in together. Uncle Bee was crushed.”_

 

_“Don’t you mean you?”_

 

_“No.” Wally snorted. “I mean Barry. Aunt Iris tried to bribe him with Sonic Riders and he moped around the house for a week because it wasn’t the same.”_

 

_Robin wrinkled his nose. The image of the Fastest Man Alive moping around the house wasn’t easily conjured. “Well I tested it. The game still works and everything. I hope your uncle still has the game console.”_

 

_“Dude…I am so whelmed.”_

 

_“Wha—okay, what are you doing?” Robin tried to wriggle out of Wally’s grip, but even the Boy Wonder couldn’t escape a bear hug from the Fastest Teen Alive. Wally lifted him off the ground, spun him—and even laughed in his ear._

 

_“I am so **in love** with you right now, bro!” Wally cackled, holding Robin by the waist and fastening the game behind the small of his best friend’s back. His heart fluttered. “I could kiss you!” _

 

_From the angle they were clinging to each other, Robin awkwardly patted Wally on the head. “Let me go, or I’m castrating you.”_

 

_“Fine, fine.” Wally grinned behind his chortles and released the other teen. Then proceeded to hug him again. “I love you!”_

 

_“You’re doing this to piss me off now.”_

 

_“Totally.” Wally let go of Robin once more—this time lacing his free hand with Robin’s. “C’mon—I saw a TV in one of the spare rooms.”_

 

_“What—you seriously think you’d find a Nintendo 64 around here?”_

 

_“I’m certain that if any of the Justice League has a funny bone and bought a game console, they haven’t updated it since the nineties.”_

 

_“Fair point.” Robin tugged at Wally’s arm before they could take off. “What about the girls?”_

 

_“Ehh.” Wally waved the game around dismissively. A smile quirked against his lips. “Forget them. You’re more important.”_

 

_Robin grinned._

 

**xxx**

 

A hand tapped on Dick’s shoulder, startling him awake. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, exhaling a loud breath, and looked up. “Timmy. What’re you doing here…?”

 

“Bart’s out of surgery,” Tim said instead. He was dressed in his civvies—thick black shades, red jacket, and a pair of normal jeans. His eyebrows furrowed together, and a small smile curled against his lips.

 

“I fell asleep,” Dick assessed. He stretched his limbs and grimaced as his body unfurled with cracks.

 

Looking around, he saw Jaime sitting in a corner in a quiet conversation with Cassie and La’gaan and Gar sprawled over Conner’s lap, asleep. Flash was back—this time with a baby in one hand while he discussed something with the doctor.

 

“It’s 3AM in Gotham now,” Tim explained, knowing it was going to be Dick’s next question. “Mal informed us what happened and we rushed here as soon as we could.”

 

“Do you know anything about—?”

 

Tim tapped on Dick’s wrist. The holocomp appeared, and the newest Boy Wonder fluttered through it until a livestream of the Vlatavan News. The sun was shining over there, with the local clock reading _10:42AM._ Perdita was dressed in beautiful Kaznian robes while Audrey, likewise, was dressed in Vlatavan ones. Tiny bruises littered Perdita’s face, her arm held protectively in a sling—and yet she was all smiles next to her fiancée.

 

Dick could only assume that he slept through the wedding.

 

 _“…we understand the consequences of our marriage,”_ said Audrey, _“whether they be good or bad. However, one of these ‘consequences’ is the union of our two countries—just like the union of the two of us.”_

 

 _“There are those who’ve tried to hurt us, as people. Our peoples, our nations,”_ Perdita said. _“But we have come out of it, stronger. And as my beloved Audrey and I have joined together as one—so will our nations. As one people—and as one nation. Stronger, and together.”_

 

Perdita and Audrey laced their hands together as a symbol, and raised them towards the sky. The crowds around them erupted in cheers.

 

“Hard to believe someone so young is capable of ruling their own country,” Tim noted. “But can’t be any less believable than kids running around in tight spandex and saving the world.”

 

“With bat puns,” Dick pointed out.

 

Tim chuckled softly under his breath, which warmed Dick’s chest. A smile curled against his own lips—tired and tight, but still relieved at the sight of his baby brother.

 

“C’mere,” Dick murmured. He stood to his feet, his hand curling over Tim’s, and pulled him close into a hug.

 

“What—”

 

“I’m just glad you’re here.” He hugged Tim tighter, and felt his pulse slow just a tad. “And that you’re not on the other side of that door.”

 

With a new understanding, Tim relaxed in Dick’s grip and even hugged him back. They didn’t talk about Jason often—but whenever Dick dwelled on Jason, Tim brought it upon himself to cheer him up.

 

 _Funny_ , Dick thought. He couldn’t remember when telling Wally all of his thoughts became telling _Tim._ Hugging the current Boy Wonder tighter, Dick felt a tiny tingle. He _never_ wanted Tim to be on the other side of that door.

 

And…knew he couldn’t prevent that, if it happened.

 

“You guys are a good team,” Dick continued in a strained voice. His eyes flickered to Conner briefly, knowing that the other veteran member heard him. “Better than we’ve been.”

 

Judging by the way Tim’s eyebrows furrowed together, Dick knew Tim had mixed feelings about that statement. “I don’t—”

 

“Nightwing, Superboy.” Flash said out of nowhere. He turned to the said hero expectantly.  

 

“Later,” Dick said to Tim. He touched the younger teen’s shoulder gently and then wandered to the speedster. “How’s Bart doing?”

 

“Good.” Barry let out a terse breath. He massaged the crown of his head and wrinkled his nose. “He’s…he’s doing good. We’ll know more about his condition in the morning.”

 

“Good,” Dick echoed. They fell silent.

 

Barry’s feet rocked against the floor, and he made another face. “They couldn’t sedate Bart or give him any anesthesia. Manhunter put his mind in a meditative state, like Miss Martian did for Wally.”

 

The baby squirmed, and Barry quickly alternated between arms.

 

“But he’s okay,” Conner reiterated. “You said so yourself.”

 

Yeah,” Barry breathed. “He’s just…so _little…_ ”

 

“And what about Kid Flash?” Dick lowered his voice and tried to switch subjects. It wasn’t much of a difference—Barry would be worried out of his mind regardless of which family member it was.

 

“Still in surgery.” Barry fidgeted and slowly shook his head. “There was a lot wrong with him before the explosion, too. They’re…uh. Once he’s out, they’re gonna do a lot of tests. Bart, too, but. Wally’s not getting released for a while if he makes it.”

 

“ _When_ ,” Conner and Dick said in unison.

 

Dick squeezed Flash’s shoulder firmly. A tiny smile curled against his lips. “He’s gonna make it, Flash. Wally got struck by _lightning_ and made it out alive.”

 

Fortunately, Barry took that into consideration. “You mean slowed his death.”

 

Another silence. Dick’s hand diminished from the speedster’s shoulder, and Barry ducked his head.

 

“I’m,” he breathed slowly, “gonna go see Bart. You…uh. Wanna come with?”

 

“You get first dibs.” Dick wanted to ask more questions, but Barry seemed ready to speed in there. The rest of the West-Allen Family was nowhere to be seen—but he doubted they were any better off than their Scarlet Speedster.

 

“Thanks.” Barry gave them a grateful look and went running. _ZIP!_

 

Jaime didn’t spare a moment of silence. “Are Bart and Kid Flash gonna be okay?”

 

“Impulse is going to be fine.” Dick turned his head. “But it’s late. You should all get some sleep.”

 

“Nuh-uh. No way—” Cassie stood up and frowned. “Not until we get to see Bart.”

 

“It’s going to be a while.” Dick doubted Barry wanted a crowded room when he assessed both his grandson and nephew for himself. “I think Flash and the rest of their family needs time to process for themselves.”

 

The younger members looked at each other. It was Tim who shrugged. “Then we’ll wait.”

 

They all settled back in their places in the waiting room, like nothing was different. But it _felt_ different. The atmosphere of the room made the hairs on the back of Dick’s neck stand up. A wave of nostalgia hit him hard. With everything that’d happened in the past year, he couldn’t remember feeling as light-hearted as the newbies did.

 

“I’m sorry for yelling on you for not telling me— _the Team…_ me. About Wally.” Dick lowered his voice so Conner was the only one to hear him. “If there’s… _anyone_  that I should be angry at, it should be Wally. I’m just… _so—”_

“Frustrated?” Conner finished for him. “I think we all heard over the link.”

 

Oh.  _Oh._  Dick groaned softly and covered his face.

 

“You smelled like him when you came back to the Watchtower a few weeks ago,” Conner said helpfully, as if the news was the most normal thing in the world. “I knew.”

 

“Can we… _not_ talk about this?” Dick’s ears flushed redder by the second. He didn’t know why—but talking to Artemis about it was just a lot  _easier_  than having… _anyone else_ acknowledge it.

 

Conner grunted. A moment later, he added, “I’m not going to apologize for bringing up Artemis. That was stupid on all four of your parts.”

 

“I—”

 

“M’gann and I are just as vital to the team as any of you are. You, Kaldur, and Wally may’ve founded the team, but Artemis, M’gann, and I are important, too. We all are.” Conner shook his head with disdain. “You were tired of the League treating you like children and keeping secrets. Don’t make the same mistake in something you created.”

 

Dick considered those words. Conner stared at him sternly, his eyebrows furrowed together—clearly unwilling to fold on the issue.

 

“You’ve had your secrets too,” Dick pointed out. “But so did I. So did everyone. But this is _different._ He’s—”

 

“I know.” Conner cut him off. His voice was tight, lips curled into a scowl. He uncharacteristically stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He’s dying because of it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How are you going to punish him?”

 

“He’s not officially on the roster, so suspension is just an empty punishment.” Dick shook his head. “There’s also no way he’ll be reinstated.”

 

“Because of his condition.”

 

“Because the team would never let him, either.” Dick’s hands curled into fists. “Which is another concern. The team isn’t going to react well.”

 

“And how are you reacting to it?”

 

At this point, Dick might as well have collided into a wall. He raised his gaze to meet Conner’s eye—who again, seemed genuinely curious of his answer. With a nervous twitch, Dick fixed one of his cuffs and tore away from his teammate. “I don’t know.”

 

He wasn’t sure there was a right word for, ‘ _I want him to be okay, but I want to **kill** him.’ _

 

**xxx**

 

_“By the way.” Robin sifted through the DVDs nonchalantly. Wally couldn’t tell from the angle he was sitting on the couch, but he was almost one hundred percent certain that it was a James Bond movie. “Batman said I could tell you guys my secret-ID. You know, if you want it.”_

 

_“Really?” Zatanna perked from her spot on the floor. A grin spread over her lips, giddy. “He approved?”_

 

_“If the founding members of the Justice League know Bats’s ID, then the founding members—plus whoever I deem worthy—should know my ID.” Robin stood up, trying to look casual, but anyone could tell he looked as excited as his girlfriend was. He quirked an impish eyebrow and grinned._

 

_Kaldur hummed pleasantly. “We **have** been a team for a year now.” _

 

_“Please. Don’t remind me.” Wally threw his head back with a groan, nearly clinking ears with Artemis. “I have to start on my summer reading list for AP Lit tomorrow.”_

 

_“You start school in three days.” His girlfriend shoved him in the shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You had all summer and put it off to the last minute?”_

 

_“I was busy!” Wally retorted._

 

_“Can’t you speed read?” Conner arched an eyebrow and waved his hand in Wally’s direction. “Since you do everything else fast?”_

 

_Artemis bit back a snicker, and her hotheaded boyfriend only pouted._

 

_“Flash can’t even do that. No speedster can. Having super speed doesn’t automatically give you a photographic memory.” Wally crossed his arms. “Which would be **cool** so I’d finally be able to pass him at something.”_

 

_“Ahem,” Robin cleared his throat. He shot Wally a, ‘Trying to Have My Own Moment’ look. “Are we done talking about KF’s lack of commonsense?”_

 

_“I didn’t think KF had any commonsense to begin with.” Raquel laughed, and both Artemis and she fistbumped. “But go ahead, Boy Wonder. Might as well see what’s under those shades.”_

 

_Robin hummed. He muted the TV behind them and stood straight. Wally couldn’t help but think how tall Robin had gotten—they were nearing the same height now. Robin needed to build up muscle to back up his scrawny limbs—but that didn’t make him any less attractive. Wally’d kind of liked it._

 

_Slowly, Robin peeled away his glasses. Bright blue eyes stared back at them, twinkling with mischief. He cocked his head to the side so bangs would get out of his face, and shoved the shades into the pockets of his sweatshirt. Dick Grayson scanned the room, looked at Wally, and Wally’s heart skipped a beat._

 

_“Aw!” M’gann gushed and nearly floated out of her seat. “You look so cute!”_

 

_“You know what? You could pass for Conner’s little brother.” Zatanna cocked her head to Conner, impressed._

 

_“You’re that kid from my first day of school.” Artemis huffed and crossed her arms. She didn’t sound angry. No more exasperated at Wally and Dick than she usually was, anyway. “Hating you.”_

 

_Robin gave a cheeky grin._

 

_“So,” Zatanna asked with a smile, “what do we call you?”_

 

_“Richard. Or Dick.” Robin’s shoulders slowly relaxed. Wally doubted anyone else noticed—but something about Robin’s expression seemed at peace. Most of them had been friends for months or years—so giving a name meant a lot to their resident Boy Wonder. “You can keep calling me Robin if you want.”_

 

_“I like that.” Zee sighed happily and stood to her feet. She reached over and planted a kiss on his cheek. Robin actually flushed pink._

 

_“Yeah, well. I knew first.” Wally zipped to the other side of his best friend and threw an arm around him. He didn’t know what compelled him to do so—but it felt right. “Best friends, after all.”_

 

_“Way to steal all the attention for yourself, Waldo.” Artemis rolled her eyes, and Wally stuck his tongue at his girlfriend._

 

_“You’re just jealous that Dick and I are at an emotional level far beyond your puny mind.” Wally flung both arms around his best friend jokingly. He kind of liked being able to say his best friend’s name to everyone else—especially with confidence._

 

_“ **So** emotional.” Dick threw his head back with a laugh and jokingly nuzzled his head into Wally’s shoulder. The elder teen tried not to shiver. “We get each other so well!” _

 

_Artemis rolled her eyes. She looked at Zatanna—and they both shrugged._

 

_“For the record,” their archer said. “I had my suspicions.”_

 

_“As if.” Wally snorted. He held the team’s tactician closer, nearly swooping Robin off his feet. However, the look Artemis gave him made Wally doubtful. “Wait, really?”_

 

_“We go to the same school.” Artemis stretched her legs over the cushion Wally’d been sitting on. “And Robin’s in Gotham. As crowded as it is—there is only **one** Boy Wonder who gets on my nerves in that whole city.” _

 

_“I knew too.” M’gann meekly raised her hand. “Remember? I scanned everyone’s minds last year.”_

 

_Conner gave one terse nod of agreement. He didn’t go further than that—but it made Wally gawk anyway._

 

_“You all knew?” Wally let go of Dick—who didn’t look surprised in the slightest—and turned to his best friend. “Way to be a professional, Boy Wonder.”_

 

_Dick shrugged._

 

_“I knew as well,” Kaldur pointed out._

 

_“Yeah, but he told you.” Wally scoffed. “Rob, you’ve violated the sacred grounds of our friendship.”_

 

_“Oh my god.” Artemis groaned and rolled her eyes. “Can we just get to the movie?”_

 

_“Hey.” Dick threw his head back with a laugh and slapped a hand over Wally’s chest so hard that the latter felt his heart throb. He looked directly at the archer, his eyes flickering with more emotions than could possibly be possible behind those sunglasses, and faked a frown. “This is a very dis situation, Arty. All our **aster** is gone.” _

 

_“ **So** gone!” Wally repeated with a mocking sob. He leaned over the younger teen slightly, causing the center of gravity between them to shift. Dick stumbled on one foot, but laughed so hard that all he could do was snort. _

 

_Everyone else groaned._

 

_“Evom yllaW dna niboR ot eht hcouc.”_

 

_Out of nowhere, Wally found himself back on the couch next to his girlfriend. Robin, too, was nestled on the floor next to Wally’s legs like he was before volunteering to switch out movies. Zee looked at the both of them, expression smug, before walking back to her boyfriend._

 

_“If you two make another peep, you’re going to hear what ‘atomic wedgie’ sounds like backwards, too.” She flashed them a sharp look, and high-fived Artemis._

 

_“Good job.” Conner grunted with approval. “I would’ve just thrown them out.”_

 

_“How **would** ‘atomic wedgie’ wound backwards?” Robin laughed pleasantly and laced his fingers with Zatanna’s. He leaned back, part of his arm pressed against Wally’s leg since the area was so small. _

 

_“You really wanna know?” Zee gave her best Dick look, the same devious glimmer in her eyes._

 

_“Whatever, dude.” Wally snorted and swiped popcorn out of Artemis’s lap. “Magic doesn’t exist.”_

 

_“You just saw Zatanna transport you from the TV stand to the couch.” Artemis quickly smacked him in the arm, slowly readjusting so that her legs were resting in his lap._

 

_“Yeah,” Wally said. “Doesn’t exist.”_

 

_Everyone else promptly ignored him._

 

_Two hours later, the credits rolled on the screen. Wally tossed his head back with a yawn—only to realize Artemis had dozed off at his side. His heart fluttered in his chest, gaze falling to her hair as it tapered down her shoulder. It was pretty undone. He couldn’t count how many times he wanted to run his hand through it and play with it._

 

_Which was something he was never going to share with Rob. Because Rob would make fun of him._

 

_He sucked in a deep breath and kissed her softly on the head. As much as Missy drove him crazy—he loved her. He really did._

 

_Wally yelped when he felt a cold hand on his bare foot. He turned to the perpetrator and huffed. “Dude.”_

 

_“Sorry.” Dick peeled the hand off Wally’s foot to cover his mouth as he yawned. He leaned against Wally more comfortably, shoulder touching the speedster’s calf, and looked up with a tired smirk._

 

_On the other side of him, Zee had fallen asleep against him. Dick was at an awkward angle where he was holding her hand and trying not to disturb her peace. The position looked uncomfortable—but Dick didn’t seem to care._

 

_It was weird just calling Rob **Dick** in his head. Rob was just **Rob.** Wally studied those blue eyes carefully, noting that they reflected light from the fixtures in the kitchen. They were pretty. _

 

_Rob…Dick was just **pretty.**_

 

_Wally couldn’t get the gay club incident out of his head. It wasn’t every day that you kissed your best friend. Sure—it’d been for an **undercover mission** , but it still made his heart soar, like scooping Artemis up in his arms and running as fast as he could so it was just **them**. _

 

_And…that was a confusing thought, too._

 

_“You still mad at me for soiling our friendship garden?” Dick snapped Wally out of his thoughts before he could linger. Mirth twinkled in those eyes._

 

_Snickering quietly, Wally shook his head and was careful not to disturb Artemis. “Only **you** could say that with a straight face.” _

 

_“Hahaha. Well my best friend is apparently a **big baby** who can’t stand my secrets getting out to other people.” _

 

_“I’m your best friend—I get first dibs on you.” Wally rolled his eyes, and this time Robin laughed back._

 

_“And only **you** could say that with a straight face to **me.** ” _

 

_Wally’s lips stretched into a grin. It almost hurt his face. He looked around the living room to check if anyone else was still awake. M’gann and Conner had retired halfway through the movie back to their rooms, and Raquel had an entire loveseat to herself. He didn’t know where Kaldur disappeared to—but Wally could was content with being alone._

 

_Turning back to his best friend, Wally caught Robin staring at Zee. Their Boy Wonder had moved his hand off Wally’s foot back into his hoodie pockets—where his shades lay._

 

_“You happy you finally got to tell her?” Wally asked softly. It’d been eight months now, after all, since they both got girlfriends. Wally thought it was kind of cool that they got girlfriends at the same time._

 

_“She basically knew.” Robin’s ears flushed pink. He turned his head slightly, face brushing against Wally’s knee was he looked up. “I mean…we make out, and stuff.”_

 

_“Stuff?”_

 

_“Just **stuff**.” _

 

_“You **dog.** ” Wally laughed and nudged Dick. “You could’ve been more romantic. Telling everyone at once doesn’t exactly equate to **candlelit dinner** at Gotham’s Finest.” _

 

_“Please. Everyone basically knew.”_

 

_“You’re telling me you let my girlfriend get **suspicious** of your most guarded secret?” _

 

_“Yup.”_

 

_“So you secretly tricked her so she’d know your secret.”_

 

_“That’s basically it.”_

 

_Wally rolled his eyes. He’d never accuse **the** Boy Wonder of slipping, because Robin was just too devious for his own good. But—being careless with his identity wasn’t very…Batty. Just…Robin. _

 

_“It’s only fair,” Dick insisted. “The founding members know Batman’s identity.”_

 

_“Whatever you’re contracted to do with the Dark Knight is none of my business.” Wally shrugged with one-shoulder. “But I knew your secret before Roy or Kaldur, so that’s all that matters.”_

 

_“Yeah, yeah. Best friends, first dibs. Whatever.” Dick fell silent. He looked to the ceiling of the cave thoughtfully, then turned. His head brushed against Wally’s knee, and the latter shivered. They met gazes, and Dick eyed Wally carefully. He sucked in a breath. “Thanks for keeping it.”_

 

_Something shifted with his words. Wally **felt** it, but he couldn’t **name** it. Dick looked to him with soft, tender eyes, with his bangs falling around the contour of his cheeks. With long eyelashes that weren’t dainty and feminine like Arty’s, but just… **Dick.** Robin. _

 

_It was the kiss from the club all over again—and Wally’s heart jumped off a diving board._

 

_“We should probably get some sleep.” Dick’s voice softened. His elbow brushed against Wally’s shin, and he pulled out his phone. **3:17AM.** “Red Tornado has a mission for us in, like, six hours.” _

 

_“I’m fine like this,” Wally blabbered without a thought. He shrugged with both shoulders. Artemis grumbled under her breath, but moved until she was sprawled over his lap and laying against the armrest._

 

_Dick looked at him again. Assessed him. A smile curled against his lips, and he sighed contently before leaning a majority of his weight on Wally’s leg. “Me too.”_

 

_Wally couldn’t **read** that smile like the ones earlier in the night. _

 

_But this just felt… **normal.**_

 

_He shut his eyes and leaned back against the couch. His neck would **kill him** in the morning, but a voice in the back of his head told him that it was worth it. _

 

_Even from this distance, he caught the scent of **Sweet Pea** off of his best friend. _

 

_Wally wondered if his heart would ever land._

 

**xxx**

 

“Wally’s out of surgery.”

 

Dick snapped out of his thoughts. He looked up from his seat—and Flash immediately zipped into his line of vision. Conner raised his head to hear Barry’s words. The younger kids, too, snapped out of whatever they were doing and watched the Fastest Man Alive.

 

“We’re allowed to visit him. He’s not awake—but we can see him.” Barry maneuvered Donny in his arms.

 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Dick asked.

 

Flash debated the question. The pause was an eerie one and out of place, like someone had stolen a step from Barry as the speester tried to run. Finally—“As okay as he can be in his situation.”

 

Right. Dick sucked in a breath.

 

“Do you wanna see him?” Flash asked.  

 

Nightwing turned his head to Conner. His thoughts were still disorganized—and he wasn’t sure he could slap a smile on his face when he got into that room.

 

But…Dick _needed_ to see Wally. Even if he was _furious._

 

“First dibs,” Conner murmured back to him. He patted Dick on the shoulder and gestured his head to the doors. “Go.”

 

On the other end of the hall, Tim seemed to agree. He nodded at Dick, looking concerned and relieved at the same time.

 

“Okay,” Dick said. He stood to his feet and trailed after Barry through the doors.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the long delay for the next chapter. I finally got this chapter done, and it's a big one!<3 I can't guarantee constant updates from here on out, but I can tell you that this story is always in my thoughts. (: I hope you enjoyed it!


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